You've Got Mail
by kiwikid55
Summary: When Izaya Orihara signed up to a dating site, it was just another one of his games. He wasn't expecting to actually fall in love… and with an enemy at that.
1. Chapter 1: The Information Broker

Izaya Orihara isn't the type of person to fall in love. One doesn't need to know him well to know that. The very idea of it ever happening was just inane.

He loves humanity, that much is true, at least; if love is the right word to be used. It's the one he'll spout to any who'll listen — _Izaya Orihara, lover of all human kind_ — but not one that honestly fits. He likes to watch them tick, that's all, really. He likes figuring out what makes each one laugh until they cry, shout until they're blue in the face, or sob until they can barely breathe. Most of all, he enjoys delving into the darker workings of the human mind, reaching in to glimpse at the deep impulses and dark secrets that they attempt to keep hidden away. Like a puppeteer on high, twisting the strings of his marionettes, Izaya adores nurturing those twisted ways until they bloom for him like a ghoulish flower, grown under a blackened sun. But the thought that he could ever love just one? _Ridiculous_. They're all but playthings, mere pawns to move on the game board he presides over. How could one ever hope to achieve the impossible?

Not that he's the type to care about that, and definitely not the sort to go seeking a deeper connection. Love is that Izaya needs to survive. He has loftier ambitions, and more concrete ideals to keep him going than the affections of someone far beneath him. He's long since learnt to deal with not being liked, let alone not being loved and really, what could be a better way to live than that? Sex complicates things, love even more so — it was a monster, a fallacy, and what does he need with something like that? He walks in enough shadows as it is.

Still — simply because he has long since dismissed the idea of falling in love doesn't mean he has forgotten it altogether. Often Izaya finds that there is no better tool for achieving his goals, or even just having a little fun, that toying with the heartstrings. It's almost laughable, really, how easy it is sometimes — and he has to wonder how humanity still believes in the myth of love when it all comes down to it. Many a game has been dedicated to trying to decipher this, to see just how far he can pull and push that clinging hope before it shatters entirely. Izaya's latest project is just another in a long string of twisted games, but no less humourous or entertaining for him because of it. Love is a monster, after all, but apparently so is he — and how could two of a kind ever get bored of one another?

It was almost too easy to set up an account on one of the dozens of online dating sites he'd found, and not simply because he was used to computers. The whole process is pathetically easy, and can't help but find it hilarious how easy humanity makes it in their desperation for companionship. Izaya makes quick work of filling in the latest profile — he's used to the process of it by now. This isn't the first time he's used this medium for a game or five, nor is it the first time he's assumed another identity. Chrome, Nakura, Kanra — he's had a whole host of names and stories at his fingertips, each with their own personalities simply waiting for him to bring them to life. He's good at pretending, even better at lying — and really, is that so unexpected given his job and the seedy paths he walks? It's part of who he is. Perhaps in another life, Izaya might have walked a more reputable career because of it; he might have taken to the stage or the movies, or even to the field of writing to craft such elaborate stories as he does — but this is not another world, and the dark path is all that he knows, all that he adores.

There's always a glint of honesty to his tall tales, however. Every lie is easier to swallow if it contains a hint of something real, after all. That's a lesson he's learned well over the years, and one he's almost perfected to an art. The trick is to balance just the right about of reality with falseness, because Izaya will be damned to the depths for good before he lets anyone delve inside of him the way he does to his toys. The name is always fake, and it's no different now, because there's hardly a soul who walks the streets of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku who've yet to hear of him: Orihara, Information Broker and snake in the grass. Nakura is the one he chooses this time, and there's almost a sense of nostalgia in it. It's been a while since he's used this alias in his games — but a little change didn't hurt now and then. The age was a lie too, because Izaya refused to admit to the caress of time aging him, but the appearance details were all as honest as could be. There was no promise of him choosing to meet with his newest target, whoever it might turn out to be, but on the chance that he did, it was far easier to just give his own description rather than have to explain away the lie. Filling in the reasons for joining the site always made him a little sick — truly pathetic, this was — even as he filled it with a slew of practiced, meaningless nonsense. It was the generic sort, really, stuff that most people seemed to lap up — oh, woe! he'd given up all hope, and though he didn't normally do this sort of thing, why not give it one more chance and — blah, blah, blah. Izaya rolled his eyes as he saved the profile, sans a display photo.

Yet leaning back into the comfort of his chair, he can't help the grin that curled across his lips. He half wonders if he should order Namie out for food, better to enjoy the beginning gleefulness of a new game. All he has to do now is wait — and see who wants to play.

Izaya Orihara isn't the type of person to fall in love. One doesn't need to know him well to know that. The very idea of it ever happening was just inane.

He loves humanity, that much is true, at least; if love is the right word to be used. It's the one he'll spout to any who'll listen — _Izaya Orihara, lover of all human kind_ — but not one that honestly fits. He likes to watch them tick, that's all, really. He likes figuring out what makes each one laugh until they cry, shout until they're blue in the face, or sob until they can barely breathe. Most of all, he enjoys delving into the darker workings of the human mind, reaching in to glimpse at the deep impulses and dark secrets that they attempt to keep hidden away. Like a puppeteer on high, twisting the strings of his marionettes, Izaya adores nurturing those twisted ways until they bloom for him like a ghoulish flower, grown under a blackened sun. But the thought that he could ever love just one? _Ridiculous_. They're all but playthings, mere pawns to move on the game board he presides over. How could one ever hope to achieve the impossible?

Not that he's the type to care about that, and definitely not the sort to go seeking a deeper connection. Love is that Izaya needs to survive. He has loftier ambitions, and more concrete ideals to keep him going than the affections of someone far beneath him. He's long since learnt to deal with not being liked, let alone not being loved and really, what could be a better way to live than that? Sex complicates things, love even more so — it was a monster, a fallacy, and what does he need with something like that? He walks in enough shadows as it is.

Still — simply because he has long since dismissed the idea of falling in love doesn't mean he has forgotten it altogether. Often Izaya finds that there is no better tool for achieving his goals, or even just having a little fun, that toying with the heartstrings. It's almost laughable, really, how easy it is sometimes — and he has to wonder how humanity still believes in the myth of love when it all comes down to it. Many a game has been dedicated to trying to decipher this, to see just how far he can pull and push that clinging hope before it shatters entirely. Izaya's latest project is just another in a long string of twisted games, but no less humourous or entertaining for him because of it. Love is a monster, after all, but apparently so is he — and how could two of a kind ever get bored of one another?

It was almost too easy to set up an account on one of the dozens of online dating sites he'd found, and not simply because he was used to computers. The whole process is pathetically easy, and can't help but find it hilarious how easy humanity makes it in their desperation for companionship. Izaya makes quick work of filling in the latest profile — he's used to the process of it by now. This isn't the first time he's used this medium for a game or five, nor is it the first time he's assumed another identity. Chrome, Nakura, Kanra — he's had a whole host of names and stories at his fingertips, each with their own personalities simply waiting for him to bring them to life. He's good at pretending, even better at lying — and really, is that so unexpected given his job and the seedy paths he walks? It's part of who he is. Perhaps in another life, Izaya might have walked a more reputable career because of it; he might have taken to the stage or the movies, or even to the field of writing to craft such elaborate stories as he does — but this is not another world, and the dark path is all that he knows, all that he adores.

There's always a glint of honesty to his tall tales, however. Every lie is easier to swallow if it contains a hint of something real, after all. That's a lesson he's learned well over the years, and one he's almost perfected to an art. The trick is to balance just the right about of reality with falseness, because Izaya will be damned to the depths for good before he lets anyone delve inside of him the way he does to his toys. The name is always fake, and it's no different now, because there's hardly a soul who walks the streets of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku who've yet to hear of him: Orihara, Information Broker and snake in the grass. Nakura is the one he chooses this time, and there's almost a sense of nostalgia in it. It's been a while since he's used this alias in his games — but a little change didn't hurt now and then. The age was a lie too, because Izaya refused to admit to the caress of time aging him, but the appearance details were all as honest as could be. There was no promise of him choosing to meet with his newest target, whoever it might turn out to be, but on the chance that he did, it was far easier to just give his own description rather than have to explain away the lie. Filling in the reasons for joining the site always made him a little sick — truly pathetic, this was — even as he filled it with a slew of practiced, meaningless nonsense. It was the generic sort, really, stuff that most people seemed to lap up — oh, woe! he'd given up all hope, and though he didn't normally do this sort of thing, why not give it one more chance and — blah, blah, blah. Izaya rolled his eyes as he saved the profile, sans a display photo.

Yet leaning back into the comfort of his chair, he can't help the grin that curled across his lips. He half wonders if he should order Namie out for food, better to enjoy the beginning gleefulness of a new game. All he has to do now is wait — and see who wants to play.


	2. Chapter 2:  The Monster

Shizuo Heiwajima is a monster — if the word on the street is to be believed.

His strength, incredible and terrifying, is the first and last thing that people ever seem to know about him; as well as being something that has clung to Shizuo for as long as he can remember. Ever since he was little, he's been stronger than he should be. His bones had cracked under the pressure of it when he'd been younger — but each time repairing themselves harder and stronger until his body was all but titanium, unable to break. It was a gift, or perhaps a curse — Shizuo has never been quite sure which. It scared people though, that much he's certain of. His power, the ease of which he can lift a van and send it careening through the air, of course it scares them. His temper flares when it shouldn't, and despite his hatred of violence, it bites harsh and hot when unleashed. What reasonable being wouldn't be chased away by something like that? They see him as a monster, and monsters never earn the happy ending in childhood tales. Shizuo knows that much too.

And it scares him to know, more than almost anything. He's a monster to most, but there's no truth to that really. Shizuo Heiwajima is a man like any other, and he wants to build connections in his world, he wants to find _love_. He's well aware that his strength scares away most people, whether possible lovers or friends, anyone who holds his interest is driven away in the end. He fears too, that on the rare happening someone stayed he'd prove everyone right and break them all too easily. The woman he'd known when he was younger is proof enough of that — he'd tried to help her, and only ended up making things worse, hurting her in the long run after all the kindness she'd paid him. He's concerned that love will never really give him a chance — though he'll be damned before admitting that to anyone.

He has his brother, he supposes, though their relationship is far from perfect. It's not the cookie cut image that he sees in some of the movies Kasuka stars in or the books he reads when he's feeling the need to escape into some world other than his own. It's an affection from afar, and Shizuo has often wondered over the years whether or not Kasuka cares as much as he does. His brother has always been indifferent, after all, and the time they spend together these days is few and far between. Yet there's no one else that Shizuo can really say he loves, or that loves him in return. Shinra and Celty and Tom — do they really count?Shizuo isn't sure about that either. He trusts them, they're friends, but there are parts of him that they have yet to see. High school and the years gone by have conjured up no magic figure to sweep away his heart, and he remains as naïve to the world of love as when he was little. It's all foreign to him, uncharted waters he's heard of and read about but never gotten the chance to explore himself.

_But what if he never gets the chance? __He is a monster after all_.

Shizuo isn't sure who's thrust flyer for some dating site underneath his door. If this is supposed to be a joke, he thinks the person behind it must have some kind of death wish. It's all in poor taste, and he feels a bitterness on his tongue just looking at the damn thing, as if it's speaking aloud to mock him for his failings — to mock his ability to drive everyone away. His next immediate thought is that Izaya is the one behind it all, because when something goes sour in his life, it's nearly always as a result of his manipulating fingers. Yet as much as Shizuo loathes Izaya, he knows him now, in all the years they've had unfolded together — and he knows that if this were his doing, he'd have stuck around to see Shizuo's reaction; nor better still, given it to him in person. And so thought number three quickly wheels in — Tom or Celty. They're the only others who know where he lives, the only others who mght have some kind of twisted motivation for sliding it under his door.

With a grumble that's almost a growl, he crumples the paper quickly, tossing it to the floor without much more thought. It skids, unassuming and harmless, across the laminate to rest beside his desk. And really, Shizuo tries to ignore the crumpled flyer after that. His apartment isn't out of control, but it's not pristine either. It shouldn't have been hard to ignore another bunched up addition to his floor — yet as the day wears on, it gets just that little bit harder to leave it there. It was stupid, pathetic really, that something so small and ridiculous could have him unable to enjoy a cigarette without snatching glances at it ever two drags.

Eventually, his will **_crumbles_**. Shizuo stops by his computer to nudge the on button as he reaches down to collect the offending paper. No one needs to know, no one **_will_** know, right? Tom isn't going to come barging in to check his computer, and Celty wasn't going to nose through his emails. If nothing comes of this, or no one replies then _too fucking bad_, that's that and no one need be any the wiser for it.

It takes a while. Shizuo's computer is old and beaten up from times that he's hit it in frustration, and he sees no need to get a new one when he hardly uses this one — or when it's at such constant risk of destruction from his own hands. He's already gone through another cigarette by the time if finally boots up and the internet is connected. It's left the air around him hanging with the spicy scent of smoke, and it's relaxing. Probably for the best, all things considered, Shizuo thinks. It takes him a while to figure out the site too. He's not technology's biggest fan, and his slow typing takes time. There is nothing speedy about Shizuo Heiwajima, something that would no doubt seem ironic to any who see him fly across the streets when his rages hit. It takes him even longer to figure out what to say in his profile. He's so uncertain and so embarrassed that he almost just exits this whole thing entirely before he's begun. What does he know about what people want to hear? He throws some words together, stringing enough sentences side by side to give a reasonably clear picture of him — or so he imagines from what he's told the internet. His name is a lie, and he leaves off the profile photo. ( They're the kinds of things that would give him away too easily, and end his chances before he even got to taste them. ) But everything else is true.

Tall, blonde, enjoys basking in the sun and sweet foods.  
>This was all one last chance to give love a try.<br>( Even if this was something new. )

When he can feel himself starting to get worked up by it, Shizuo saves the profile. He lights himself another cigarette, before he turns his attention to a rather shy browse through the other members of the site he's just joined. He wonders how long his resolve will last before it crumbles again and he gives up on this venture. It's so unlike him he almost laughs, but maybe that's been his problem all along. Stubborn and hard, perhaps he does need to give up something to stumble into love — _is that why they call it falling _? If there's someone out there who can love a monster like him, Shizuo thinks that maybe falling wouldnt be too bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3: Let the Game Begin

Izaya can't help the laugh that curls from his lips as another profile loads on the screen. Seated at the desk in his lofty apartment, there's a laziness to his position, resting in the plush comfort of his chair. The light is fading, and it's almost ethereal and far too pure for the dark soul that lurks under the curled lips of the devil at the desk. The game he craves to play has yet to really begin, though Izaya is no less keen for it. The strings are all laid, the pieces set, and all he needs now is the right plaything to come wandering in blind, deaf and dumb to his intentions.

The profile he's currently browsing is as cheesy as the come, the same cliched trash the rest of this website was full of. The man in the profile has uploaded a photo wearing an expression that Izaya supposes is meant to be seductive and only comes across as laughable. His words are filled with bragging - about his wit, his kiss, claiming to be a better fuck than any boy Izaya will supposedly ever meet. It's clear from a mere glance what his intentions are - and they're not nearly lofty enough to play the starring role in Izaya's latest game. There's no fun to be had in teasing those simply looking for quick sex. What Izaya wants is someone so desperate for love, so willing to fall and open themselves up, because there really is nothing better than worming his way inside to watch someone destruct from the inside out. And love - well, love always has been the easiest and fastest of means to achieve that end.

It's not even half a minute later before he's moving to another profile, and then another and another when each seemed more and more disappointing than the last. None of them are here to seek the deep connections like the plaything he's after. Izaya would bet that half of those on this site are married or something, simply looking to fill an urge. Any other day and he'd have been delighting in it - relishing their rotten cores, hidden underneath silky and unblemished velvet outsides. Humans! They all seemed to see themselves as walking a different path, planes above the rest of the world and oh! how he could relate to that - not that they'd ever reach his level, nor walk side by side with him. Playing with them now though will being him no great satisfaction. They're already leading themselves into foolish places without his interference - sooner rather than later, their games will end. Why should he join in on a game that someone else has already started, without the option to lay the founding pieces? No, he much prefers his own, where he can control each and every move, and map it out from the start - and that requires a very special playing piece, so different from the rest he's stumbled across on this site so far. What Izaya wants, what he needs, is someone truly desperate for love - all for the satisfaction of destroying them. He wants to string them along and give them the barest taste of the throws of love only to snatch it away at the last moment, to teach them and their naivety just what a destructive monster love really is. True love doesn't exist, and nor do the epic romances in literature of the ages, and what Izaya can think of no better game right now than finding someone to teach that. Humans are so delectable when they're broken, and there's always been something so fascinating in their sadness and tragedy that he can't ever tear himself away from.

How long he's spent trawling through profiles so far he doesn't know. It could well have been as little as a few minutes, or just as easily an hour. It doesn't much matter either way, really. Izaya's job allows him the luxury of time. He has the power to pick and choose his clients, because they'll always come flocking back in the end no matter how long he takes. The money that pools in his accounts too - because he's not foolish enough to keep it all in one place - is enough that he could get away with sitting idle for days or months or years if he really desired. He'll not stop his work of course, whether it affects his comfort or not, because there's no escape from the fact that the work he gets is far too interesting. The time spent amid humanity is far too fun for Izaya to give up simply for its unnecessity. The luxury of time really is a funny thing, and it comes so freely to him that he's all but stopped paying attention to the passing of time these days. He has miles of the stuff; years and hours and seconds tucked away in a corner that he gives little care - and yet he's walked with those who feel as if their time has run out, as if they've lost those precious seconds as the world keeps turning. It doesn't mean he's ever been willing to share, even as he's managed to talk dozens of them up onto the ledge. Celty hasn't managed to save them all, how _could_ she? Izaya commands time, and he's a master at ripping the few precious seconds from his playthings with sweet words and lies as they tumble facewards towards the concrete and unknown below.

The sun has all but set by the time Izaya settles on a profile though, time has slipped away without his notice or his care and for all of his claims to see it all, the world still ticks on regardless. It's a curious one, everything about it screams hesitancy - and that is the first sign that Izaya should look a little deeper. Every other account yells nothing but arrogance and cockiness, confident that sooner or later they'll find someone to satisfy their urges. They plaster their face and their bodies and slews of contact information across them, certain that someone will call. Yet this - there's none of that. There's no posed image or bragging words or hastily made private email listed - just a blurb that's almost as pathetic as it is cliche. It's like his, just like his really, the dainty words of a soul seeking love. Shinozuka Heikichi, the name of the profile reads, an Ikebukuro resident. Though Izaya's certain it's an alias, he doesn't much care. It's not as if he's been forthcoming or entirely honest with his name either. It won't matter int he long run, when everything is said and done and this man is broken in the shadow of Izaya's glory.

The smirk has faded none as he clicks the message button, set to tap out the first words and let the games begin. There's no promise this man is the kind that Izaya is after, but he's got a feeling - and the instincts of a God are very rarely wrong. _Let the game begin,_ indeed.


	4. Chapter 4: How Do You Do?

The ping that sounds from Shizuo's computer is more than enough to make him twitch in mild surprise. He wasn't expecting it, that's for certain, and is quick to make sure the computer knows that too - by promptly fixing a glare at the offending machine across the room as if it will do anything to lessen his shock. After a half-hearted browse through the site he'd just joined, Shizuo has shifted himself away towards the window of his apartment, set on burning through another cigarette or too. It's where he still is when the little chime comes from his computer, a thin cigarette tucked between two fingers. The doubts have been spinning around since he completed his profile, and a smoke has always calmed him and helped to clear any muddle of thoughts that threaten to overwhelm him.

The computer pings again. Shizuo doesn't use it often, but he knows enough to recognise it as the sound of his email inbox. As he lifts the cigarette to his lips for another drag, he half wonders if he should just toss the machine out of the window now, if only to save the irritation bubbling under his skin already at the sound, or any future hassle. Truth be told, he feels _awkward_ in the online world. He makes use of the Dollars page certainly, but it's never too often or to the point where he feels entirely at ease with the internet circle. This situation especially throws him, because it's something so personal, and it's vastly different to an online gang of sorts. Shizuo isn't certain the way he's supposed to go about this - and that's half of the reason for the doubts that choke his mind. He wonders why he thought this was a good idea when he has no idea the rules or steps to go through in this strange, alien world of online connections. Is he supposed to find someone and make the first steps - or is it simply okay for him to sit, and wait, and hope for someone to come to him? Worse still, when that stage is met, what is he supposed to say when it comes to talking of himself? He's already lied about his name, but sooner or later Shizuo is certain the person on the other end would put the pieces together - that, or he'd end up slipping up, accidentally throwing in something that would give away who he really is far too soon.

He doubts knowledge of who he is will get the interest rolling in - after all, being himself as yielded no luck this far in his life. People fear him, because of the things he can do, because of the side they see when Izaya is around taunting and teasing - anyone on this site would run from that, he's certain, because no one stays around long enough to see the truth; that the strength and temper he has been born with is more of a curse to him than to anyone.

Shizuo takes another drag of the fading cigarette, tapping the ash on the end into the little dish perched on the ledge beside him. The smoke curls upwards as he exhales, dancing towards the ceiling before it catches on the breeze from the window to escape outwards, into the world. He thinks sometimes that it's the smoke that calms him more than the addictive nature of this habit, though the latter naturally plays a part too. The way it twists and whirls through the air before it dissipates is so free - as it it moves for no one or no thing but itself. In his darker moments, Shizuo contemplates how peaceful it would be to be smoke, able to live his life with that same amount of freedom. Yet he knows that's something he'll never be allowed to do. There'll always be someone out there seeking to make his life more difficult, no matter how much he craves the quiet. Whether it be some street thug seeking to improve his own reputation by challenging Shizuo, or the sharp barbs of a louse from Shinjuku, it doesn't matter. He's been cursed with a dismal ability that has dealt his hand for him, granted him a life that means violence will simply follow him wherever he wants. He breaths it now, and lives it, and all Shizuo wants its for it to go away. What kind of fool would want a life like his anyway - a life so ruled by anger that even he has no control when it hits? Those who walk in the shadows of the city know nothing, Shizuo has decided long ago, they don't know how lucky they are, and yet they throw it all away for lives of bloodshed and crime.

Another ping sounds from the computer, coaxing a growl from between his lips. It's low, husky, rolling from his throat and tainted with the burn of his current emotion. Shizuo's always been the sort to wear his mood on his sleeve, even in the privacy of his own home. He stubs out the cigarette when he's finished, pushing himself away from the window to return again to his computer. There's a little icon flashing in the corner of his screen when he reaches it, a little white envelope outlined in flashing red - apparently just in case the computer thought the obnoxious pings weren't enough to get his attention. He can half imagine the battered machine grinning up at him, as if teasing his lack of skill in the technological world, and for a moment the urge to just toss it at the nearest hard surface seems so sweet. (_The wall, he thinks, would be most appropriate. He's never like the wallpaper much anyway_.)

Despite the spice of the cigarette he's just finished still on his tongue, there's a nervousness that tingles under his skin as Shizuo sits down at the desk again. He knows that he signed up for the site for the purpose of finding someone, but now that there's a chance that someone has found him, he's not so certain. It's almost ironic, to a point, that someone so capable of destruction can feel so afraid of a new email he's yet to even see - yet it stops Shizuo from swallowing hard no less as he clicks to open the inbox. The email server takes far too long to load, and Shizuo can feel the nerves slipping into irritation each second that passes. He can feel it bubbling up inside, and wills it to load already if only to end it. Yet if this turned out to be some punk winding him up, he's not sure what he'll do. He thinks the computer might be the first to go, meeting an early end, and then the potted plot that sits beside it - a gift from Tom when he first moved in.

The email that waits for him is spam. It's obviously slipped past the junk mail filter, promising this or that in return for a small fee, Shizuo isn't sure what exactly because he's quick to delete it with another growl. His stomach feels as if it's been abruptly plunged several hundred feet. The disappointment is tangible, and he could almost laugh at himself for being so foolish to get his hopes up as he clearly has done. "_Tch. Idiot._" Acknowledging his own ridiculousness doesn't do anything to lessen the feeling though, and Shizuo feels sick as he pushes the chair away from the desk. The irritation burns even more hotly as he tears his face from the screen, willing down the swell of emotion that's threatening to bubble over. This was a stupid idea from the very beginning, and this only proves it. How could he have thought it was ever going to pan out if he entertained the notion of it? He was a _monster_, after all, was he not? - and _no one_ can love a monster except one of its own kind.

Shizuo turns back to the computer to shut it down, done with this little experiment as far as he's concerned. As his mouse hovers over the exit button for the internet browser, however, a _ping_ sounds again. This time, his inbox is already opened, so he doesn't have to face the anxious wait to open it - and _this time_, it's not just a spam message that greets him. Instead, nestled in Shizuo's inbox and blinking up with a little 'unread message!' icon is an email from the very site he's recently signed up to. There's a slight shake to his hand as he shifts the mouse across to open it, even despite himself. It's nothing overwhelming, one of the automated messages informing him that he's got several new messages in his inbox on the site itself - and giving him a quick link to check them.

There's a pause as Shizuo reads it, takes it all in, because what does this mean? He was so ready to be done with this whole thing, but now there's a chance- a slither of hope, and he's stuck on whether to take it or not. It could be nothing, but it could turn out to be something - and as he clicks the link to his other inbox, Shizuo muses when he got so desperate. It's like some dark thing tucked away in the back of his mind, something he knew but would never admit to; because if he lets out something like a cliched desire to be loved, what is to stop him falling to pieces when that wish never came true? He's strong and he's angry, but underneath it all, Shizuo is no monster - he has a heart capable of being shattered. The more numb he stays to it all, the less it stings when people run kicking and screaming from him.

There are five new messages in his inbox, waiting and ready, when the page finishes loading. Shizuo's brows knit together in a frown - was it normal to get this many, this quickly? He doesn't know how this kind of thing works, and he's definitely not used to this much apparent attention. The nerves are back as Shizuo swallows, preparing himself to read through them. For anyone else, this might well be easy - but he's never been especially good with others, and that's something that doesn't change in his online interactions. There's a distinct contrast to the image everyone holds of him, and how he actually is, and there's no denying that most would be surprised to discover how shy Shizuo Heiwajima can actually be. There's an mild uncertainty to his actions, and anyone who knows him can tell that the aloof, grouchy nature is nothing more than a front. Deep beneath lurks the innocence and quiet that rings in his very name.

He's uncertain now as he turns to the first message - deciding he might as well start with the person who's been waiting the longest. Shizuo isn't sure if that's the way he's expected to go about things here, but for lack of any prior knowledge to how this all works, he figures he'll follow his gut. The text that greets him in it is nothing good though, and neither is the text that follows in any of the three following messages. They're crude and they're crass and he deletes them as quickly as he reads them - because it's obvious that they're only here for one thing, and it's not the same thing as Shizuo. He's all but given up again by the time he reaches the last email, and his hopes aren't that high as it loads. He's coming to see that people like him on sites like these seem to be rare - or perhaps if they're not he's just been exceedingly unlucky in attracting only those just looking for a quick hook-up.

Yet as before, just as Shizuo is resigned and ready to throw in his metaphorical towel, a tinge of hope springs to life. This message is only short, yet it rings with more sincerity than any of the previous messages. There's a curiosity ignited in him, a bubble of something he can't quite place, as he re-reads it again. Is this proof his gamble on this site was worth it after all? It can't hurt to try, that same, quiet voice from the back of his head chimes in. But how does he even go about replying, about starting this thing off? Monsters aren't used to dealing with things like love and romance - especially not dating websites, and Shizuo Heiwajima is no exception. Fumbling for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket, Shizuo isn't certain. He can only hope the calming twirl of smoke and the spice of another will provide enough clarity for him to follow through with it.

'_Your profile says you like to eat sweet things. I wonder,_  
><em> does that include me? . . .Just kidding! I couldn't resist.<em>_  
>- I'm Nakura, <em>_how do you do?'_


	5. Chapter 5: Playing the Part

Izaya is good at playing roles. He was the star of his drama class back during his high school days — or the times he'd turned up, at any rate. His childhood had been normal, his parents normal — but Izaya had been anything but. He's always been able to hide himself in the guise of another, whether that persona be anything like him or not. It's not that he especially dislikes who he is, quite the contrary in fact, but there's always something thrilling about stepping into the shoes of another for a while; and there's no denying that Izaya has plenty of those to chose from. He's spent months before tucked away in chat rooms as a woman under the name of Kanra, and just as many tending to the caring yet depressed Nakura persona, who lures those to their downfall and adds yet more stains the concrete below. None of them show the real nature of Izaya, yet in each of them a part of him resides. The only way to create a believable ruse, after all, is to add a pinch of truth. Yet there's a second truth that rings true, and that's the simple fact that Izaya has invested himself so much into these roles, has gotten just a little too good at playing the part.

Somewhere along the line, his personas have fused with who he is, and they with him, and there are times when even Izaya isn't entirely certain anymore what is him and what is merely an act. What does it matter though, really? No one honestly cares to unravel him, to pick out what words leaving his twisted lips are the truth, and what is simply a ruse designed to mock, or to play. As much as Izaya loves the world, he sees its dirty underbelly just as clearly, he sees its false ways. Humanity are never above lying and cheating — and even as he stands so proudly above them, Izaya is no different.

His computer pings, a cheery little sound that announces the arrival of a message in his inbox. It's so utterly in contrast to everything about him that it seems almost odd to have it happen around him. Izaya is all smiles and laughs and utter glee on the outside, certainly, but under the skin, entangled deep in sinew and bone, lays a cynical, twisted, mocking interior. He makes quick work of opening up the browser to see what awaits him, and almost laughs with a sick amusement to see it's an automated message from the latest site he's chosen to play with. In truth, Izaya's somewhat surprised to hear back quite so soon — he'd been settling down to get through some work for a client for an hour or so when the notification had sounded — but he's certainly not disappointed.

The website loads with only the barest flicker of a pause after Izaya mouses over the link, the result of a good internet connection, one he remembers insisting on when he first obtained his loft. It's not only a vital part for his work as an information broker, but it's one of his best lines to connect him to all of the delicate lives spilling out in the city beneath him. There's more pleasure to be found in meeting them all face to face, in snapping and tweaking their strings in person, but he's a man that moves with the times, and he recognises the games that are fit to be played online.

Izaya makes short work too of deleting the spam messages that have filtered into his inbox on the website. He has absolutely no interest in playing any sort of games with the idiots trying to hook up. He's already anticipating the possible results of this new game, and it's yet to even begin. He can only hope that Shinozuka can prove himself to be worth it all, and save him having to search out someone new. Izaya can practically taste the excitement now. Who knew what sort of dark and twisted desires the man had lurking underneath his skin? Who knew what sort of horrid secrets might be written in his bones and the lines of his face and in the depths of his eyes? If the game proceeds, Izaya is under no doubt that he'll be able to find out the answers to everything. That's his job, after all. He has made a living as the best of the best, and he prides himself on that. And then when he has tugged and pulled everything there is from the man, he'll delight in letting go and watching the strings of this man's life unravel, thread by glorious thread. Love is a monster and the world is just as awful as everyone thinks, despite whatever the Black Rider prides herself in saying. What kind of man — no, what kind of guardian would he be to humanity if he didn't try to teach them that?

There's a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as the message opens up. He's brought his legs up underneath him onto the office chair, and can't help but swing back and forth on it slightly as he skims through the response he's gained. There's that same twisted, yet almost childish, glee written across his face and practically singing in his head at the result. Izaya can definitely see himself having fun with this one — whether the man on the other end of the line ever realises his strings are being plucked or not. A mug of tea sits beside the keyboard, steaming softly towards the ceiling, and the loft is quiet; perfect for Izaya to delight in the beginning of what he is certain is going to be a delicious game — leading a man to his ruin, what can be a better pastime than that? Izaya laughs, because nothing can be.

_'Nice to meet you Nakura, I'm Shinozuka, and I'm_  
><em> pretty sure that people don't taste sweet but how <em>  
><em> do I know you're my type of sweet anyway? Yeah,<em>  
><em> okay, that was pretty awful, I'm not the best at this.'<em>

Izaya wonders what the man on the other end of the line had gone through in sending that, what he had thought and mused and looked like. _Had he been flustered by Izaya's words and blushed? Or had he simply been unphased by it?_ Izaya had made sure to be subtle in his first message — but cheeky. He's well aware this is most like Shinozuka's first time on a site like this, and Izaya has enough experience in toying with people to know the kind of approach that first timers like. So Izaya can play the part for them, he can give them his confidence when it's apparent they lack their own. He wonders how long it took the man to come up with this response, something that tried to be as playful as his own but jsut fell up short in his apparent naivety to this kind of thing. It was almost _cute_, really. Izaya can already begin to form a picture of this man simply from the first few words he's received from him, and the game hasn't even properly started to tick over yet. Izaya's body is humming with the thrill and the enjoyment and he half hopes this proves to be even more entertaining than the last game he played — though that's certainly a tall order to meet, organising the girl's kidnapping had left him skipping around the city for days utterly joyously for days beforehand.

Izaya makes a mental note to throw in some more saucy lines in future messages, to see if he earns the same reaction then, or if he can tempt forward anymore different emotions. With that in mind, he swiftly clicks the reply button to tap out his response. The smirk never once leaves his face, even after he's clicked send and reached for his tea.

_'Oh, I wouldn't say that. Besides, I wouldn't worry,_  
><em> I'm everyone's type of sweet, so I'm sure I'll suit<em>  
><em> your tastebuds just fine. But ah, where have my<em>  
><em> manners gone? How are you today, Shino-chan?'<em>


	6. Chapter 6: A Good Day

The next morning was warm. The sun had slunk up early to heat up the city with its golden light, bathing the buildings and the streets and the people in a delightful wash of heat. The sky was clear with only a faint dusting of white clouds streaking across the expanse of blue like birds hovering on the breeze. The streets were already crowded, filled with gangs of people in smart suits or school uniforms or casual clothes, on their way to work or to school or some kind of social meeting that morning. The trains were already dashing to all corners of Tokyo, carting these people around as if nothing else mattered. It was a hive of life, a gaggle of activity, and it wasn't even noon yet. The early bird always catches the worm, and that sentiment was never truer than in a place like Ikebukuro.

Shizuo Heiwajima woke up early, to the sound of his alarm clock on the bedside table next to where he slept. The offending item quickly ended up getting a swift bash to its head to stop its ringing, adding yet another dent to the top where Shizuo turned the thing off every morning. It wouldn't be long before it was refusing to work properly and he'd have to go and buy a new one that hadn't yet had to deal with his violence in the early morning light. The blonde growled, choking back a yawn as he swung out of bed, still half asleep and lost in the dream world that he had left behind.

He hadn't gone to bed until late, though normally he slept early after a final cigarette and a glass of milk, because of the simple fact that he had found someone to talk to. Nakura, the man supposedly from Shinjuku that Shizuo had emailed. The two had exchanged a handful of them now, with Shizuo still just as lost in what he was meant to say or how he was meant to react, a fact that Nakura seemed to be delighting over. There was a glee, a certain charm, to the words of the other man that even Shizuo couldn't miss, couldn't be drawn in by. Heh, the idea was hilarious. In his life, he'd always denied feelings like this. He'd never let himself focus on attraction to another man because it just wouldn't work, not because of him being a man too, but because nobody could love him, could they? Shizuo Heiwajima was a monster. And here was Nakura, this man, apparently wanting to know more about Shizuo, apparently thinking that maybe Shizuo could be the love he was searching for; that was why he was here, right? That was why they were both here. So the two had stayed up, chatting about mundane things like work – where Shizuo had found out this man was an insurance broker and had lied about his work and simply said he was a loan officer or something – or things they liked or the city of Tokyo itself. Nothing personal, nothing deep, just surface things, and yet Shizuo already felt like this man who he'd never even met knew him better than anyone ever had. Ha.

The blonde shook away the sleep still hovering over him as best he could, heading to the wardrobe to pull on one of the many uniforms that Kasuka Heiwajima had bought for him years ago. It wasn't his profession anymore, but Shizuo wouldn't turn down the kindness of his brother, the brother that he loved dearly, even if he never admitted it or really saw the younger Heiwajima. Tom would be around to knock on his door soon, ready to lead Shizuo off to their first client of the day; some scumbag from the underworld who didn't understand that it was time to pay up already, some scumbag that Shizuo would end up tossing across the city if he said the least annoying thing. Most of them did though; they didn't seem to understand that just by keeping their mouths shut they could avoid that happening. That was the easiest way to reason with Shizuo, just don't be an ass and he'd keep his cool. Still, he wasn't going to quit his job just because he happened to run into jackasses so often. Tom had given it to him, Tom hadn't run away from his curse of strength, he had embraced it, something that Shizuo himself had never even managed; Tom had found a way for Shizuo to make use of it and had even managed to form a friendship with the grouchy blonde to an extent. Shizuo had always been grateful for that, he had always been grateful that Tom never seemed to mention it either, never seemed to mention his brother, he was grateful that Tom seemed to know what set him off and what topics of conversation to avoid. Tch, if only the rest of the city were like Tom. How much easier his life would be then.

Shizuo made his way through the apartment, grabbing another box of cigarettes to stuff into one of his pockets to keep him going throughout the day. His computer was switched off, he'd bid Nakura good night a few hours earlier, and he passed it with a quick glance as he headed for the kitchen. The fridge was mostly empty, filled with bottles of milk and a few bare essentials, but Shizuo managed to grab a carton of juice, drinking it straight before tossing the empty thing into the bin. He didn't bother with breakfast, never did, knowing that he would probably just eat something later in the day or stop by Simon's to get dinner when Tom was done with him for the day. His body was so good at fixing itself that Shizuo never really bothered to take care of it, because it always seemed to do it for him. He never bothered to look after himself that much, only eating when his stomach growled at him for food. It wasn't that Shizuo needed someone to make him take care of himself, or even particularly wanted one, his own health was just something that wasn't too high up on his priorities list. Never had been; even as a boy when his body had been as weak as they came.

The knock at the door came a few minutes later, and Shizuo headed to answer it without a pause, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose as he walked.

"Morning," Tom offered the blonde when he opened the door, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Shizuo grunted out a response, stepping outside of his apartment. The door shut behind him, and the two headed off towards the streets of Ikebukuro for the day, ready for work. Tom was chatting the whole way there, informing Shizuo on the clients they'd be visiting that day and what to expect from them and exchanging small talk with the blonde. For once, Shizuo formed words in response, where normally he had merely grunted out low hums in reply. Tom noticed the change, but made no comment on it, continuing to chat like the two normally did.

The sun was out, and the day was warm. Maybe, just maybe, today would be a good day after all.


	7. Chapter 7: Fighting

I got too excited to wait until tomorrow to post this, and I got a bit carried away, so it's pretty long. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. It means a lot to have so much interest in my work. Hope you like the rest of it ~~

* * *

><p>Shizuo was sadly disappointed. The day had started off well, but he should have known that his luck wouldn't last. It never did. It was just a known fact. His name was Shizuo Heiwajima, and a man with that name wondering around in Ikebukuro would never have an easy time of it; somewhere between the gangs trying to take him down or the scumbags he had to deal with for work he managed to get a peaceful day here and there, but they were few and far between.<p>

He'd already had to deal with one of those assholes already. Some asshole had tried to flee when he'd heard Tom knocking on his door, claiming that it was payday and he needed to cough up what he owed. The idiot had thought that escaping out of the window had been a good idea, not expecting to find Shizuo waiting for him at the bottom of the tree he had tried to shimmy down. That had been fine, he could deal with that, just some coward trying to skip out on what he owed, he was used to people like this in his job; but then that asshole had brought up Kasuka, and everyone who knew Shizuo well enough knew that was one thing you didn't do if you valued your health. The man had ended up halfway across the city, tree and all, leaving a still considerably pissed Shizuo and a mildly amused Tom – though of course Tom would never admit to that, it meant having to wait for the payment he was owed from the man Shizuo had just sent flying.

Shizuo was used to dealing with things like that though, and it hardly made a dent on his day because it was just something that came along with the job, just one of those things. He had calmed down after that, gone with Tom to another couple of people who owed money who had no trouble paying up once they spotted Shizuo lurking a couple of paces behind Tom. No, no, Shizuo could deal with that. The sun was still out and they'd stopped by Simon's for lunch when his stomach had protested that it needed something to keep him going. Tom had agreed, and the sushi had been a welcome bonus to what was pretty much a good day so far.

And then Izaya Orihara had appeared, and all of that had gone up in smoke.

"Oh, Shizu-chan~," had been the call that had reached Shizuo's ears, though even at that stage his angry had flared to the point that all he could focus on was finding the nearest and heaviest thing he could to toss at the damn asshole.

"How lovely to see you today, lovely weather we're having, hm?" Izaya seemed indifferent to that fact, though it was obvious from the rising colour of Shizuo's skin to the growls rolling out of the blonde now like some kind of wild cat. Izaya was still skipping along, down the street away from Shizuo, but not at a particularly speedy pace. "Though I suppose such beauty is lost on someone with a brain as small as yours~"

Tom had spotted the warning signs, had stepped casually away with a roll of his eyes and a sigh. Work was done for today, he knew well enough what came next, a chase across Ikebukuro and Shizuo disappearing somewhere after to calm down with a round of cigarettes and some punks to beat up or something like that. He certainly wouldn't be in the mood to deal with more debt collections today, but that was fine, Tom got that, to a point, he did, he really did. May as well get on with the day's work though while Shizuo was off letting out some steam, and hey, it wasn't as if anyone would be able to calm him down now. He was going to explode sooner or later.

The flea had come skipping down the street as if he owned the place, a box of fancy tuna tucked into one hand and a smirk lighting up his face in a way that irritated Shizuo to the end of the world and back. He knew. That damn Orihara knew how fucking mad that smirk got him, how angry his very presence made him. He knew that Ikebukuro was out of bounds, and yet he here was, all the way from Shinjuku despite it all. Oh, he was dead. Shizuo was going to murder him. Dead. Dead. Deader than dead. Dead.

A roar tore from Shizuo's mouth, one that he only vaguely recognised as a livid cry of the information broker's name. He was never really aware of what happened in moments like these. This anger and this strength ruled him, his body moved on its own, and he was powerless to stop it most of the time. His mother had tried to help, had tried to tell him that his brain was in control of his body, that it was up to him to choose when or if he made use of his strength. That was all well and good, but Shizuo hadn't once been able to stop it, no matter how hard he had tried, it was as if something in him just snapped, like a string that had wound up and up and up and could bend no more so just had to break.

Shizuo felt his hands close around the nearest object that he could find, that happened to be a bench nailed to the floor, but wasn't really aware of it. He could hear the groan of metal and the protest of wood as he set about tearing the thing from the floor. His muscles didn't even complain anymore, they just stretched and rolled under his skin to comply with his apparent wishes and within seconds, the bench was poised above his head like it weighed no more than a bag of sugar. Shizuo could only barely hear what was going on around him, could only just make out what was happening; the sound and sight of people in the streets running, exclaiming about what was happening in shock or fear or some strange mix of curiosity only just registered through the haze of anger clouding his head. No, it wasn't that. Shizuo Heiwajima had a narrow focus. He couldn't see anything outside of his rage and outside of that damn punk's smirk and tinny laughter at the furry ends of the coat started to flee down the street. His laughter was everywhere, echoing inside Shizuo's head, laughter, laughter, laughter. That damn jacket was clouding his vision, black and white and with that irritating fucking fur trim that seemed to be getting further down the street. Oh, that bastard was enjoying this. He was enjoying Shizuo's torment, his anger, laughter, laughter, laughter.

With another roar of a name, Shizuo's legs jumped into action, and he took off down the street, tossing the park bench ahead of him in the hope that this time it would land on that bug. Taking out the rubbish, killing the pests, that was his real job, that was what Shizuo had to do. Izaya laughed, cat-calling at Shizuo from down the street.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Izaya Orihara was so dead.

* * *

><p><em>'Hey, Shino-chan~<em>  
><em>You'll never guess what happened to me today!'<em>

Izaya had made it back in one piece, shaking off the oaf after a couple of streets chase. Well, he had to give the brute some hope that he'd catch him one day. Where would be the fun in playing with Shizuo if he gave up? Izaya liked the fight, liked the fact that he couldn't read what Shizuo was going to do next. He never did as he planned, even when he set him up, pinned all sorts of crimes on him, Shizuo never acted like his other humans; because Shizuo Heiwajima was a monster. Of course he was. A perfect monster that Izaya liked to poke and prod and play with, ah! He could think of nothing better. Even his sushi had managed to survive today's chase; quite often Izaya was forced to abandon it in favour of leaping up somewhere high out of Shizuo's reach, because the blonde never had seemed to figure out how to reach up to Izaya's level when he did that. Not that it mattered, he had enough money to be able to toss away a box of sushi every now and then without worrying, but it was irritating to return home and find nothing to eat.

The information broker had settled at his desk once he'd arrived home, curling himself up into the comfort of his office chair. Namie had been in today, filing some papers of his and the like, but she had left by the time he had arrived back, thankfully. She was fun to tease, to play with, to extort, because her love for her brother was so delicious that Izaya just couldn't help herself, but having her around all the time only seemed to dampen the fun of his little games. She never understood, never seemed to express any emotion for them, let alone a positive one such as he was looking for. The box of ootoro he'd picked up from Simon's earlier sat open on the desktop, and every now and then he would reach down with his chopsticks to place a piece in his mouth, chewing the delightful flavour with a mumble of enjoyment. Only the best for someone like him, he'd always had a weakness for it. His computer was on, booted up as soon as he had walked through the door, and the email browser was opened – as well as various little chat rooms for his other games of course – whilst he sat, awaiting the reply of Shinozuka Heikichi, his plaything, the current fascination of his mind.

_'Hm? Sounds interesting, going to tell me?'_

Izaya never had to wait long for a reply from the man now. He liked to think that had something to do with him; the fact that he was so charming, so wonderful that already his influence over this man was starting to show, and so soon. What a delightful notion! It was like that English book he'd read when he was younger, what was it called again? It had spoken of a Lord named Henry, nicknamed Harry, who had taken a young aristocrat under his wing, had whispered dark things in the boy's ears and watched him flourish under his influence. Ah! Dorian Gray, that was it, yes, the boy who had a terrible secret hidden beneath an arrogant smile and youthful face. What a wonderful story that had been. Izaya had never forgotten it, and had even collected various copies of it over the years of his life.

Izaya couldn't help but chuckle as he tapped out a response. It was things like this that made him laugh. Oh, if only the man knew who was really on the other end, what would he do if he found out that Nakura was really the Orihara he had just spoken of?

_'Would I keep you hanging like that?_  
><em>Oh- but I witnessed a fight between Orihara and Heiwajima today!<em>  
><em>You must have heard of them, right? It was crazy!<em>  
><em>Did you know he can lift a whole park bench above his head?<em>  
><em>Ah~ scary!'<em>

Shizuo twitched at the email that arrived in his inbox, and for a few seconds a brief notion of paranoia struck him at reading Nakura's words. Did he know who he really was? No, no. He wouldn't still be emailing him if he knew. He would have run, screaming, like the people in the street earlier. He scowled though, how did he reply to something that concerned himself without giving him away. Irritation bubbled under his skin as he sat, at his desk with a cigarette sleeping between his fingers. This little fling at love was going to be the death of him, wasn't it? Because how would he cope if this man vanished without giving Shizuo a chance to experience his love?

_'Yeah, I was in the area myself at the time._  
><em>Crazy stuff indeed- hope you didn't get caught up in it.'<em>

Izaya just laughed. What a game this was turning out to be after all.


	8. Chapter 8: The Virgin Vibe

_'How is it that you can always get me to spill my guts about these things Nakura?'_

Shinozuka had left for work at some point, but he had assured 'Nakura' that his phone had an email service, and so the two had continued to stay in touch even when the other man had been out. Izaya hadn't needed to leave the house since he had last been to Ikebukuro, two days ago when he'd run into Shizuo in the street. He'd simply taken on little jobs that meant he could remain in the comfort of his loft in Shinjuku, sending Namie out for sushi or paperwork if and when it was needed. He was paying her; about time she got off her comfy chair and actually did something for a change.

Izaya wasn't sure when the tone of emails had changed. Izaya also wasn't sure when he had started to include little details about himself in these emails. Only little things, like the fact he had sisters, two of them, twins. Nothing that would leave his emailing partner with any clue to who he really was, but- it made it more believable, and in a game like this, that was key. He suspected it was after Shinozuka had let out that tiny bit of concern for his – rather Nakura's – safety that the conversation had shifted. The emails had taken on the edge of seriousness, and Izaya had delved deeper, pulling and prompting and twisting his charm to coax out delightful little ideas and stories from the man on the other end. He was good at that. He'd always been good at getting what he wanted at the least cost to himself. The man on the other end was certainly giving it his all. His answers were often cryptic, trying not to give too much away to Izaya's probing words; but the fact still stood that this was Izaya's job, this was what he was good at, and it didn't take long for him to twist those replies around until Shinozuka would reveal some little nugget of his life. He worked in debt collection, he had a brother he wasn't close to anymore, he had a fondness for sweet foods and he liked classical music more than the rest. Izaya was glad. There was only so much small talk that he could deal with before he got bored, only so much on the surface that he could fake interest in. It was the details he wanted to know, under the skin things. He wanted to delve into this man's brain, find out what made him tick, what got his blood boiling, what made him break down. Izaya wanted to know it all, he wanted to memorise it, pull it and twist it until this man came buckling down to his knees before him, begging for mercy; mercy which Izaya would never give, not even if the man begging until his throat was hoarse or promised Izaya all the riches in the world. Who needed silly things like that when he was the victor of such a wonderful game?

Yeah, yeah. He'd learnt a lot about this Shinozuka Heikichi, and he guessed that the other man had learnt a little of him too. Surface things, fleeting things, like his love for fatty tuna or the fact that he had a fondness for rough lovers, nothing that mattered, nothing that defined him, nothing like his family. No, the fact he had mentioned his sister's was nothing, the fact he had mentioned his mother and father were just normal was nothing, nothing, nothing. Everyone had family. Even Izaya Orihara, lover of humans was no different. Shinozuka seemed pretty happy with what Izaya had let slip though, as if he had somehow broken past a wall of stone when really Izaya had been the one deciding what the man on the other end got to know or didn't. Shinozuka had no choice about what he told Izaya, because the information broker wouldn't rest until he had every little desire or thought or information about the man's life. Soon enough he wouldn't even need to meet the man, he would be able to form a total mental picture of who he was just by the things he had been told. And then, oh why then the real game could begin. Izaya could finally teach this man the true meaning of love, which it was not worth all it was made out to be, because love was a monster. He would watch this man crumble until the pressure of love, break under its dark, dangerous other side. That was just a fact of humanity, no one made it out alive.

_'Magic of course, Shino-chan, magic!_  
><em>Ah, but I kind of suspected already, you give off this ~vibe~.<em>  
><em>Would you like me to give you some tips?<em>  
><em>I know all the tricks in the book!'<em>

This was going to be so much more entertaining that Izaya had expected it would be for one little reason that had had him shrieking with delighted laughter around his loft; so loudly that Namie had questioned his sanity before he'd sent her away with the order of getting more ootoro.

Shinozuka Heikichi had never been with anyone before, in any sense of the phrase. Izaya didn't know whether to continue laughing or to pity the poor creature for his lack of experience; he decided on a mix of both.

_'What do you mean… vibe?_  
><em>And… tips? Why do I need tips?<em>  
><em>Am I really missing out?'<em>

The information broker could practically see the other man squirming uncomfortably on the other end of the line. That was just how he came across, naïve and so- untested in waters that Izaya was long since used to. It was cute, wasn't it? He felt like a parent, instructing a child on the ways of life, all of those rites of passage like how to use chopsticks or how to ride a bike or why Shizuo Heiwajima was a big, dumb brute. Shinozuka was so innocent to the way that passion worked, the way it could overthrow you in lustful throws and take over you so completely that you just weren't aware of anything else. Izaya had experienced a lot, and what sort of man would he be if he didn't help his dear humanity experience what he had too?

There was a smirk pulling at his lips as he clicked on the little reply button, opening up a fresh email for him to begin. His legs were dangling over the edge of his chair, one of them crossed over the other, and a cup of green tea sat on his desk, steaming delightful toward the ceiling. He knew that Shinozuka would apparently be getting off of work soon, and so what better time than now to impart such wisdom onto the inexperienced little virgin? He could go out to some seedy bar and test it out, and then Izaya could have a heap of fun analysing and playing with all the man's little whimpers about how it wasn't what it was cracked up to be the next time they spoke. Fabulous, just fabulous! All he needed now to make his evening complete would be for Namie to finally return with his sushi, where was the stupid woman anyway?

_'I mean a virgin vibe! You're so serious it's hard not to tell Shino-chan!_  
><em>Ah, you're so cute~ Of course you're missing out – honestly!<em>  
><em>After you've felt hot fingers all over you or steaming kisses to your skin~<em>  
><em>Or feel someone nibble at your lips or just grind up against you~ Ahh~<em>  
><em>Then you can tell me if you think you're missing out or not.<em>

_Now come along Shino-chan, I'm going to tell you everything I know._  
><em>We're gonna get you laid, even if it kills us~'<em>

Someone so pure didn't stand a chance with Izaya Orihara on the other end. Oh, Shinozuka Heikichi, Izaya mused, just wait until I'm done with you.

Here endeth the lesson.


	9. Chapter 9: Blushing

'_I mean a virgin vibe! You're so serious it's hard not to tell Shino-chan!  
>Ah, you're so cute~ of course you're missing out – honestly!<br>After you've felt hot fingers all over you or steaming kisses to your skin~  
>Or feel someone nibble at your lips or just grind up against you~ Ahh~<br>Then you can tell me if you think you're missing out or not.  
>Now come along Shino-chan, I'm going to tell you everything I know.<br>We're gonna get you laid, even if it kills us~'_

Shizuo Heiwajima twitched. Cute? Him?

He could feel the irritation bubbling up under his skin, forcing the low growl from deep within his chest. His fingers hovered above the off-coloured keys of the keyboard attached to his computer, visibly shaking from the emotion bubbling inside of him. A virgin vibe? Tch, there was no such thing. Was there? Tch. Would he still have the confidence to utter them if he knew that Shizuo Heiwajima was the one he was speaking to? He was annoyed, irritated, at this man's cocky tone, and yet- he could no more hide the pink tinge to his cheeks than he could hide his strength. It was only light, a slight flush of rosy red that coloured his skin. How could this man say such things without any shame, how could he just talk about such intimate things as if they were as public and used as the public subway or a park bench. How could he just say something like that? It wasn't as if Shizuo could just stroll into a bar and have men fall at his feet. It didn't work like that. Nakura seemed to think otherwise. But no, no, the world just didn't work that way. Love wasn't easy; it wasn't, because if it was, would Shizuo still be all alone?

Fighting back the embarrassment and the blush, he was a grown man for crying out loud, he was Shizuo Heiwajima, why the hell was he flustered over something like that? It was sex. That was all, right? That was what they were talking about. It was nothing, it didn't matter, so what if Nakura seemed to find it amusing that he hadn't- so what, it didn't- Shizuo frowned; grabbing at the keyboard, he tapped out a reply, pressing down too hard on keys that were already feeling the pressure.

'_You're dreadful, Nak. Why do I even still talk to you?  
>I get the feeling you're going to give me tips no matter what I say,<br>Am I right?'_

This was like some matter of pride now, some weird notion that Shizuo had that he wouldn't let this man get the better of him. He'd joined this site to have one last bid at finding love, but was this it? He didn't know. It didn't feel like it. If anything this man was one of those friends that everyone has, the one that always has the best jokes yet nobody really likes. He wondered if that was what Nakura was really like, or if this was just him trying something else to find love too. There was something about Nakura that Shizuo couldn't get his head around, though he wondered if this was just how all relationships started. Did all couples hate each other at first; did all couples burn with this infuriating irritation?

Pushing himself away from the desk, Shizuo stretched to his feet, grabbing the box of cigarettes from beside the keyboard. This man would be the death of him. He left the email browser open and running, meaning that he would hear if and when Nakura replied to his message; the profile on the dating website said the other man was online, so he knew it shouldn't be too long. Shizuo wasn't sure if he was glad about that or not, especially after the turn their conversation had taken. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them brought up the sexual nature of things, though it didn't mean he was ready for it. It was like he had never really matured that way. It was something that Shizuo had never had, no matter how curious he had been about it, but he had never really missed it. How can you miss something you've never had?

It was growing dark out now; the sun was beginning to set. The night was approaching, slipping rapidly in through the tall, lit buildings and streets of the city in order to chase the last of the daylight away. The days moved so quickly now, a strange mix of work and talking to Nakura and sleep, and Shizuo knew that it wouldn't be long before the year itself would be over, and he would be yet another year older, and still alone.

He perched on the windowsill of his apartment, shoving open the window so that the scent of smoke wouldn't linger in the room too long. It was cool outside, and the air nipped at his exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves of the pressed, crisp white shirt. Perching the cigarette between rouged lips, his fingers pried out the lighter from the pocket of his trousers to light it up. The kick that came from his first drag proved just the pick me up he needed, just the right clarity of mind that would allow him to calm down, to think. It was always the way, it was always why he never stopped smoking, even when Kasuka had mentioned it in the brief times that the two met around the holidays.

Shizuo was halfway through his cigarette when his computer pinged, signalling a reply from Nakura. It wasn't going to be from anyone else, he had deleted all of the other emails from other men he had received from the site, and there was no one in the city that had his email address other than Kasuka; and his brother had little time to waste with such frivolous things like that. He cast a glance toward the machine, the one that sat on his desk, open and bright, and humming out as it worked. There was that same little email icon at the side of the desktop, flashing around the outside in that same vibrant red, passionate about its job to remind him of his email than ever before. He turned away though, back out of the window to watch the lights twinkle on in the city and cars and people flit from place to place while he finished his cigarette. They were all so busy; they all had so many places to go. So many intertwining lives passed by under his steely gaze, none of them with any knowledge that he was watching them. How many of them knew who he was, how many of them knew what love was?

His computer pinged again, as impatient no doubt as the man on the other end. Shizuo smiled ominously, stubbing out the cigarette in the little ashtray at his side. It time to go and face whatever Nakura had shamelessly replied, and fight another fit of blushes from staining his cheeks; because Shizuo Heiwajima did not blush.

'_Why? Because I am a fascinating human, Shino-chan, just like you!  
>But you're right of course – let me tell you everything I know.<br>Trust me – you'll be thanking be tomorrow!'_

Well, maybe he did just a little bit.


	10. Chapter 10: Irritation and Anger

Irritation; that was what Izaya could feel fizzing under his skin. It was hot and uncomfortable and he didn't like the way it made him feel.

He had joked that Shinozuka would be thanking him for his advice later when he had emailed him the previous night, but he had never expected that to be true. He had thought he had the man pegged down, he had thought that he had him all figured out, and yet this had happened, and Izaya found himself proved wrong. This man had been easy to figure out; Izaya had wasted little time finding out what made him tick, what made his blood boil, what filled his wildest dreams and dizziest nightmares. And yet, Shinozuka Heikichi was capable of surprises it seemed. Izaya hadn't factored that into the equation, that was a result he had never expected, and anomaly, something that broke the mould. Well, Izaya had said he wanted someone interesting to play with, and this surely proved that Shinozuka was up to the challenge.

'_Guess you get to say I told you so, Nak.  
>Never expected that- well, thanks for the tips, I guess.<br>Seems they even help a guy like me to find someone, heh.  
>And I guess you were right, maybe I was missing out.<br>It was- well, you know what it's like.  
>You know I'm not good at this.' <em>

What did those words even mean? No. That was a stupid question. Izaya knew what they meant. This was the surprise act that Shinozuka had managed to spring on the gleeful information broker. When he'd given him those tips, it had been nothing more than a way to make the other man uncomfortable, to coax him into embarrassment so that Izaya could see what a delicious reaction that emotion would be on a man as supposedly pure as Shinozuka. What he hadn't expected was for the man to take these little tips, the little tricks that Izaya had jokingly passed on, and actually make use of them. He tried to imagine the other man slipping into some bar somewhere, testing out his newfound skills and leaving at the end of the night with someone in tow; or was it the other way around? He didn't know, and it struck him now that maybe he didn't really know anything about Shinozuka. He had thought he had him all worked out, and then he had gone and sprung something like this on him.

This game was positively fascinating, so delightful that Izaya almost wanted to dance around his office in pleasure of the fact. Wasn't this just the thing he had been after? Wasn't this just the crowning jewel he had been looking for to stimulate his brain? It was a good thing, if the man had been as simply as Izaya had imagined then this game would be over all too soon, and then he would lose interest, or the man would just buckle early under the pressure and he'd have to find a new plaything. No, no, Shinozuka Heikichi was just the right man for the job. This was just the next stepping stone, the next piece of the puzzle. He had experienced love, well, no, not really, that was laughable, and it wasn't love, was it? The man had played with a single night of passion, or so Izaya was supposed to take from the email he got. That wasn't love. Izaya should know. He'd had enough single nights filled with the charm of lust to know there was a difference. Not love, never love. No, no, but this was a good thing, it really was. Now Izaya could play with that, he could tease this man; make him believe all sorts of twisted things. It was only a matter of time before he fell for him, and then Izaya could finish this game on a high note, and have Shinozuka crashing to his feet. They were more personal with each other now weren't they? This was just the step forward that Izaya needed really. It was.

And yet-

'_Seems they even help a guy like me to find someone, heh.'_

Irritated, that's what he was. It was a horrible emotion, and it burned through humans in a way that Izaya liked to mock. Was this what that dumb, hideous brute always felt? It was like a headache, like a bad migraine that wouldn't go away.

He was well aware that he was scowling at the computer screen in front of him as he leant back in the comfy arms of his office chair. Namie was sat across the room at her own, considerably smaller, desk, sorting through some sort of meaningless paperwork that he had tossed her way to keep her busy and her mouth shut. He couldn't stand it when she spoke, just the way the words left her mouth. It was mid-afternoon, and he knew that Shinozuka should be at work, so he guessed the man was on a break or something. That didn't matter, what mattered was the fact that Izaya could shake this. An empty mug sat on the table beside him, along with an empty box of rice and sushi that he'd had Namie fetch for him earlier at lunch time. Mocking and chilly, he tore his gaze away from them to stare at the computer screen, at the window, down, at his humans, scurrying here and there like ants, bugs ready to be squashed.

This other man, the one that Shinozuka had met, had gone home with, had shared that intimate night of passion and all the other things that came with it, who did he think he was? He had no right to be touching what belonged to Izaya, he had no right to be playing with his toys.

That was why he was irritated; annoyed at this other man who had defiled something that Izaya was playing with. Izaya didn't like the emotion. It was foreign and tasted badly in his mouth. Shinozuka had turned out to be one hell of a plaything, though he would never let the other man know just how much fun, but now someone had touched him; they'd kissed him and made his heart race and his skin heat up, they'd tasted his plaything, they'd made him cry out, moan, groan, beg for moan, lose himself to pleasure. Ha! Would he have done so if he knew that Shinozuka belonged to Izaya? Humans. They were his. All of them. Humankind, humanity, every single one of them belonged to him. He was their leader, their guardian, their owner. He pulled at their lives, twisted and tugged and played with them like a family of dolls or a puppeteer. That included Shinozuka Heikichi. The other man belonged to him; he was Izaya's, to do with as he pleased, as he saw fit to deal with him. But he was dirty now, someone else had been messing with him, and a toy isn't nearly as much fun when it's dirty, is it? Shinozuka had been so pure before, so innocent and naïve and it was Izaya's job to turn that around, to turn him into a primal creature and have him begging at his feet. If that other man ever came to Izaya's attention, he'd have to run before he ended up with a knife in his back, twisted and sharp.

Because Izaya was annoyed, he was irritated and angry and even Namie could tell from the way his shoulders hunched as he sat.

If there was one thing that Izaya Orihara hated, it was when filthy humans touched what belonged to him.


	11. Chapter 11: Not Like Him

**Author Note: **This was meant to be just a filler while I tweak the next chapter, but I actually really like the way it came out. I'm going to respond to reviews from here on out via PM, I like talking to you all and seeing what you think of it or think will happen next. So let's be fabulous friends~

This is dedicated **ryodai89** and **kitespirit**, in the hope they continue to leave long, long reviews to make me smile.

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><p>It wasn't like him. Shizuo wanted to laugh. It really wasn't like him at all.<p>

Shizuo Heiwajima was a guy who got into fights, he was a guy that had scumbags throw themselves at him in the name of looking tough. Shizuo Heiwajima was a guy who went to bed early after a glass of milk and a couple of cigarettes. Shizuo Heiwajima was a guy with a nature as pure as his name, yet was never given a chance to prove that everyone. Shizuo Heiwajima was just a guy who loved a brother he didn't see much. Shizuo Heiwajima was a guy with a steady job and a short temper. He was just a normal guy, no matter what people thought.

It wasn't like him to act the way he acted.

Because Shizuo Heiwajima wasn't the type of guy to go out late at night because of the teasing words in an email from a man he had never met. Shizuo Heiwajima wasn't the type of man to go to a bar in Shinjuku – especially knowing that was where the damn flea lived – in the hopes of these tips from a man he didn't know actually working. Shizuo Heiwajima wasn't the type of man to order a drink and fight back a blush and try to pick up a 'date' for the night. He just wasn't, because normal guys didn't do that, and he was just a normal guy.

And yet-

Nakura's words had stung him in some way. There had been some challenge to his words that Shizuo couldn't turn down, or no- no, that wasn't it, he hadn't ever been the competitive type really. There was something else, something underlying in the other man's email that had prompted Shizuo to act so completely out of character for him. There had been a burst of confidence hidden amongst the man's teasing words, a sprinkling of belief that had Shizuo realising that even he could do things that he had never thought he could do.

It wasn't like him at all.

And yet-

And yet he had still pushed himself away from the computer, turning it off for the night without replying to Nakura. He had still gone to the bedroom and changed out of the uniform, one of the many that Kasuka had given him. He had still slid into some jeans that looked a little battered and were wearing out at the knees and an old button up shirt in a colour that matched his eyes. He had supposed that was okay, he had never dressed to impress before, there had never been a need to. Who did he have to impress anyway? It was what was inside that counted. Perhaps that was why he found it so easy to talk to Nakura, the whole anonymity of it. He didn't know who Nakura was, he didn't know what he looked like or sounded like or what his home looked like, and yet- and yet he felt that he knew the man, under the skin, behind whatever face he might have. And that was important wasn't it? Looks were distracting. They always made a mess of things. It was the beautiful people that made it in the world. A harsh fact, but the truth, one that Shizuo had long since accepted – after all, wasn't his brother beautiful? Wasn't that why Kasuka was the star of so many films and teenage girls' dizziest dreams?

It wasn't like him at all. Shizuo Heiwajima was a monster, and monsters weren't supposed to socialise with normal people were they? He didn't even know anymore. Nakura didn't seem to think he was a monster, but Nakura didn't know who he really was did he.

It wasn't like him to act that way, and yet-

And yet-

Shizuo had still gone to that bar, fighting back the red pinching at his cheeks. He'd chosen Shinjuku over Ikebukuro; only a handful of people knew who he was in this part of the city, and they only knew him because of the uniform he normally wore. Tonight he could blend in, fit with the crowd, and be normal and not extraordinary. It was a notion that had his heart pounding.

It had been smoky, and dark, and there was a music box beating in the corner so loudly that when he stepped in he could feel the bass rocking through his bones, into his soul. The smoke he could deal with. There had been chatter in the air, and no one seemed to care when he walked in, and he could just ease himself into the place like he was meant to be here. It was easy, it was- if Nakura seemed to think it was so easy, and then Shizuo would prove it was. If he could do it, then so could Shizuo. The blonde couldn't help but choke back a dark laugh. He was doing all of this, stepping outside of his comfort zone because of a tone that he might have noticed in an email from someone he'd never met. It was ridiculous, it was stupid, it was so completely unlike him that it was laughable.

And yet-

He had still made his way to the bar, still ordered a drink. Shot of whiskey mixed with a glass of coke. He'd still kicked it back, felt the burn on his tongue. This was what men did right? This was what he was missing out on? Heh. Liquid confidence. He could feel it burning through him, making him faint and dizzy with the notion of what he was doing. Calm, calm, he needed to calm down. It was just a bar, just a bar where no one knew his name. If nothing happened, then what? He'd just go home and that would be that. He'd email Nakura, act like nothing happened, and life would carry on just as it had been. He could talk to this man online, go to work, beat the hell out of that damn louse every now and then and that would be great.

And yet-

Yet-

His heart had still pounded when some man had slid into the seat next to him. Shizuo had noticed his looks right away, had realised that the man was handsome, he was hot, he was- what the hell was he thinking? Shizuo Heiwajima didn't think like this, he didn't. It didn't matter that the man had the softest looking chocolate hair Shizuo had seen, it didn't matter that his eyes seemed to flash the colour of the sea on a stormy day, it didn't matter that his smile was dazzling, it didn't matter that those jeans hugged his legs or that shirt or that look in his- Shizuo Heiwajima didn't think like that. He wasn't a pervert, his brain wasn't wired that way.

And yet Shizuo wasn't normally the type of man to wind up in a little bar in Shinjuku looking for sex. Well, well- he was already acting so unlike himself, already three sheets to the wind, why not go the full way, the whole way, why not, why- Nakura wanted this, didn't he? He wanted Shizuo to experience this, the pounding of his heart, the sweating of his skin, the way that man's smile looked- god, he was bad at this.

And yet-

When the man smiled at him, asked him if he could get Shizuo another drink, the blonde had had no trouble in saying yes. He'd had no trouble remembering what Nakura had told him, in going with the flow, forgetting who he was. Did the other man on the email not feel jealous, essentially giving Shizuo the tools to find another man? Was the whole point of that site not to find love, and yet here he was handing Shizuo away for a night or whatever?

And yet-

Shizuo didn't think once of Nakura when he followed the man home, knowing full well what waited for him when they got there.

It wasn't like him. It wasn't like him at all.

And yet-

And yet…


	12. Chapter 12: Told You So

**Author's note: **A second update may or may not - mostly likely it will - be posted in an hour or two. I get really excited about this story and want to share it with you guys so I can't stop myself updating. Bluh~ especially since we're getting into the meat of things now. Anyway~ enjoy humans~.

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><p>It was in Izaya's nature to get bored of a game easily. His brain was just wired that way, always had been he guessed, or had been as long as he could remember. It was lighting, quick and deadly and never striking twice in the same place. Lightning, lightning, that was Izaya all over, lightning. That was why he was always searching for new sensations, always looking to make his life burn with the hard flame, bright and quick and burning out with a bang and fizzle that would make sure no one ever forgot him again. Lightning, lightning, lightning, light-<p>

Izaya wasn't bored with his game though, he wasn't, there was so much still to be explored, so much more he knew that this Shinozuka had to give. Izaya knew there was still so much left, buried underneath, so much more that he could pull and pinch and twist around, as if he were some crazy Kishitani, out to dissect whatever looked interesting enough. He knew that there was so much promise left in this man, so much that he could persuade him to do. Wasn't there enough proof that there was already? Izaya – no, no, _Nakura _– had left Shinozuka with some tips, harmless little things, and said nothing else on the matter. No. No. It had been Shinozuka who had gone out and made use of them, who had- what had he done? Izaya didn't know exactly. Met some guy, gotten himself laid, kissed, set his heart racing, and tossed clothes onto some stranger's floor. Did it matter? Nakura – no, no _Izaya_ – had only needed to send him a little nudge and the man had gone and done something like that. So Izaya could only imagine what else was in store if he set his mind to it, which in this game he should.

So no, no, it didn't matter that some other man had robbed Shinozuka of that delicious purity that made him such a novelty to Izaya. It didn't matter that some other man had seen the delightful deflowering of a man that Izaya had known only to be naïve, jaded, innocent to the passions of love. Of course it didn't matter, it was part of the game, and it was a step that Izaya would have taken himself later. This man had merely helped, right, right, it meant he didn't have to step in, didn't have to soil Shinozuka himself. Well wasn't that handy? What if Shinozuka turned out to be some cold, stoic man years older than him? Izaya wasn't going there again, so at least this way he wouldn't have to force it up in order to get things hot and heavy with the man. It didn't matter, and Izaya wasn't bored with a game that had so much to offer.

And yet-

'_Guess you get to say I told you so, Nak.  
>Never expected that- well, thanks for the tips, I guess.<br>Seems they even help a guy like me to find someone, heh;'_

It didn't mean that Izaya had to be rational. Humans were rational, and Izaya was- he wasn't rational, he could do whatever the hell he pleased. _I told you so? _ What fucking good was that? That wasn't the point of nudging him that way, didn't Shinozuka get that? Did the idiot not understand what the point of this game was? Love was a monster. That was the point. That was what Izaya was trying to prove. Shinozuka was not supposed to enjoy quick sex with some nameless man in a bar. He wasn't. Not for his first time. Because Shinozuka was as fucking innocent as someone half his age and people that young just didn't do that. No. It was just Izaya that did that, it was just- the idiot didn't need to tell Izaya he'd gone and fucked some guy. He didn't need to know. He didn't care what he did.

Ha.

What a fabulous turn of events. So many contradictions, swirling around inside Izaya's brain that it felt like his head was going to explode. He could feel the migraine coming on, radiating through his skull and down his spine just like a vending machine or metal pole to the head. Damn, damn, where the hell was Namie with his fucking sushi and why did Izaya not think to keep headache pills in his place and ha, ha, lightning, lightning.

This wasn't like him. He didn't like it. He wasn't used to feeling. He wasn't used to being so damn irritated. So what, so what, Shinozuka and some guy, big deal, whatever, just two humans doing what humans do best. He loved them all the same, they were just two of his children or playthings getting along awfully well and well, well, that was fabulous news! Fabulous! Wonderful! Delightful! Why, Izaya decided that maybe he should be dancing around the room in joy of the fact! Oh, exciting news indeed! Ha. Ha.

What an interesting game, so interesting. It had taken a twist just like the curve of Izaya's mouth into that dark leer; it was something he could play with. Why not embarrass the little Shino-chan a bit further? Oh, was it good for you Shino-chaaaaan? Was he good-looking~? Did he kiss you juuuust~ right? Ah, ah~ but I could do it so much hotter, so much harder, so much faster, so much better—

Ha.

What a laugh, this was good news. This was great. He was pleased, he was. This migraine wasn't from his irritation, it was because he needed food and Namie was still fucking around somewhere with his sushi. He made a note to cut her already dismal pay for a week and see how quickly she got back to the office then. He wasn't even irritated because of that guy and Shinozuka, it was because the other man had taken so long to reply, that was it, that was all and because Namie still wasn't back yet and-

When she finally came through the door, Izaya had worked himself into a murderous mood, had locked it away behind a cheery lilting laugh and a smile that tilted at his lips. He reminded her of future pay cuts and spun around in his chair to just enjoy his sushi. It tasted sour on his tongue. Had Shinozuka tasted sushi like this? He doubted it, no, no. The fish must be off, Izaya didn't feel like eating it, and promptly dumbed the half eaten fish onto Namie's desk and a pile of paperwork she'd spent days doing. Serves her right, stupid, stupid, stupid woman. It was getting dark out, and Izaya had already decided that he'd skip out to Ikebukuro later in the name of work. Ha, hadn't it been too long since he'd seen Shiki? The older man would clearly have work, would clearly have no trouble in the information broker appearing at his doorstep like old times. How long had it been since-

Izaya couldn't remember the last time he'd taken on some work; he'd been so caught up in this little game. Now it had taken a twist it was a good time for him to dip out for a while, to let Shinozuka stew in what he had started. Let the man think he was jealous, Izaya didn't care. Izaya didn't care about anyone, he didn't. Not Namie, not his sisters, not Shiki, not Shinozuka fucking Heikichi.

The email server had been open on Izaya's computer all day, and he had pressed the 'reply' button to Shinozuka's email as soon as it had arrived in his inbox, and yet Izaya hadn't made any attempt to reply to the other man's email. Perhaps he was getting bored with this game after all, was he? He didn't know, didn't know why he was so irritated, maybe it was a mix of things, maybe it was that Shinozuka was as predictable as ever and yet Izaya knew that wasn't right. Shinozuka Heikichi would pay the price for forcing these emotions onto Izaya. He didn't like the way it burned through him, he didn't like being irritated, it was crude and horrible and reminded him of that stupid oaf. Ha.

He knew that-

He had to get out of this place, go and interact with his other humans. They had to be missing him after all, it had been days, well, going on a week and a half since he had last strolled around the streets of Ikebukuro. He needed to streetlamps glow on his skin, he needed the trains and the cars rattling in his ears, he needed the worshipping whispers of 'there goes Orihara, information broker' to excite him again.

He needed to find that man from the bar and teach him not to play with what isn't his.

As he left, telling Namie not to touch anything while he was away and to get some decent food for his return, he wondered what sort of what Shiki would have in line, hopefully something interesting.

After all, all play and no work makes Izaya Orihara a dull, dull boy.

And who could love a dull boy?


	13. Chapter 13: Ignored

**Author's Note:** 2,100 words written in an hour. I think I deserve a medal or something. This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you don't kill me too much for the end. /flees/

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><p>Shizuo wasn't used to being ignored, and yet he was at the same time. He was used to people seeing him in the street, crying out to their friends that it was <em>the <em>Shizuo Heiwajima, whispering that they didn't want to make him mad, telling people to run before he threw a rubbish bin at their heads. He was used to being noticed, but he wasn't used to people knowing the real him. He was used to them ignoring things beyond the surface; he was used to them not looking past his name and uniform. Such a funny existence that he had settled into. It worked for him, and yet it didn't. It was just an awkward balance. They knew who he was, and yet they didn't. Nakura knew him too, and yet didn't. Nakura knew all the best things about Shizuo, he knew his personality and his wishes and yet he didn't know that he was Shizuo Heiwajima, he didn't know that he was really a monster and for that Shizuo was glad. It meant the man had gotten to know him, hadn't gone running fearing for his life like so many had done before.

Shizuo wasn't used to being ignored, and yet Nakura was doing a grand job doing just that.

It had been more than a day since Shizuo had last emailed him, two or three of them at least, and he had yet to get a reply from the other man. That had irked him, and more than once the computer had nearly ended up in a heap and in pieces on the floor when Shizuo checked his email to find the inbox empty; luckily reason had swept in at the last minute and reminded him that without a computer, he would be hard pressed to reply to Nakura, seeing as he could no longer receive email on his phone. Apparently hitting something to make it work again isn't a good idea when your name is Shizuo Heiwajima.

Sure, sure. He understood that the man obviously had a life outside of this dating website and emailing Shizuo; he understood that because sometimes his work had meant he couldn't reply to Nakura for the whole day, but he had at least let the other man know that, and he hadn't vanished for three whole days. Not that Shizuo was counting. It was just something he could work out from the dates on the emails in his inbox. Not that he was just re-reading his last email in the hope he'd not said something to offend the other man. Wouldn't that be just his luck to scare away another friend, and one who had stuck with him for so long? Shizuo wasn't going to be a pest though. That was one of the tips that Nakura had given him. Don't act desperate, act like you could have anyone else in the room and that the other person is lucky to get your attention. Treat them mean to keep them keen. Was that what Nakura was doing to him? No, Shizuo didn't think so. Nakura wasn't like that, he had been nothing but nice – if not a little teasing – to Shizuo and he doubted that was going to change anytime soon. So Shizuo didn't bug the man, he didn't pester him with replies asking where he was, he didn't, because Nakura had told him that clingy men were such a turn off.

By the end of the third day though, he had decided these rules of Nakura's didn't apply to concerned friends, and he opened up the email browser when he'd showered after work. The blonde hadn't even bothered to dress properly, hair still damp and sprinkled with water, a pair of boxers hanging from his hips as he sat down to type out a reply. Hey, he was concerned, who wouldn't be if their friend was missing for so long, especially in a place like Ikebukuro where colour gangs lurked behind every bend, even in this day and age.

'_Hey Nak – just thought I'd check in.  
>Haven't heard from you in a while – Heiwajima didn't get you did he?<br>Figured you must be busy with work or something.  
>Let me know when you're free to chat.<br>- Shino'_

Ha. He'd even reached the stage where he could joke about himself, and he had Nakura to thank for that, though what the man would do when the two of them met and it was revealed that Shinozuka Heikichi was actually just an online alias for Shizuo Heiwajima. He guessed that bridge would be crossed later, but it shouldn't matter right. The two were friends, so Shizuo hoped that meant when that time came, when they finally- that Nakura wouldn't run, that he'd stick around and continue to get to know Shizuo.

That's what friends did, right?

The blonde sighed, shrugged, and left the computer on in favour of getting dried and lighting himself a cigarette or cooking something to eat. The man would reply when he wanted too. If something had gone wrong with the other man, then Shizuo would listen, but he wasn't going to pester the other anymore – or at least not until he had another pang of abandonment twist his gut – it was all just a matter of time now.

Just a matter of time.

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><p>The ping that sounded from his computer only irritated Izaya.<p>

He had picked up mountains of work from Shiki – and a migraine and scolding from the older man – when he had left that night, and he was still burning through it now. How many nights ago had that been? He didn't know, didn't really care. Time was a luxury that was afforded to him, and it didn't matter how long he spent doing things. Time was time, it was unimportant as ever. The work was interesting, he wasn't complaining about that, it was delightful, and it was juicy, filled with the twisted workings of human minds and cruel wits and the like. Shiki certainly knew what Izaya liked; he supposed he'd have to thank the old man for that one of these days. The work had proved a wonderful break from silly games and provided a nice boom in his bank account that had meant he could afford luxury sushi and rice for every meal he ate. There'd be none of that horrible 'junk' food in his body, none of it at all, only the best for Izaya Orihara.

He had decided that since the game was under his control, he'd left Shinozuka sweat for a while; let him wonder if he had made a wrong move by telling him of the man in the bar; which he had, really, though Izaya was not about to realise that or admit to it in any shape or form. It was just a little bit of friendly banter, just a little break to see what Shinozuka would do. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, wasn't that how the saying went? Something like that, Izaya didn't really care.

He had managed to shake the irritation from the previous days, thankfully. It had eased itself out of his skin when he had gone to see Shiki and the man had enveloped him with open arms and given him plenty of work to keep him distracted, to keep him occupied from finishing his game too soon. He didn't want to spoil it now, did he? No. No. It was best to wait a bit, and then carry on, that was the way forward. Shiki had spotted the way that Izaya's shoulder's tensed and bunched, and he'd set him jobs to make it all better. What a nice man, always thinking of the best for him, even now.

It didn't stop the feelings returning in a flood when his computer announced he had a new email though, or that it was from Shinozuka. Izaya was glad that Namie wasn't in the office to see the scowl, black as death, which he shot at his computer screen. She would only chide about one of his games going wrong, and that wasn't what he needed right now. So he simply turned away, continued with paperwork and the light for these jobs, intent on ignoring the email for as long as he could. He'd managed three days or more already, what was one more going to hurt?

Another ping, and he idly contemplated shoving the expensive machine off of the desk and replacing it with a much less mocking version. Izaya bit out a laugh at that, he was starting to sound just like the protozoan, clearly a sign he'd been spending entirely too much time in the brute's presence, though it had been days since the two had last had a run in. Delayed reactions? Ha, ha, wonderful, he was catching Shizuo's stupid germs one encounter at a time.

He raised one hand from where it had been holding a stack of papers to push up the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and from there to massage his right temple in a hope that it would soothe away the foreign and dismal feelings bubbling around in his big brain. His left hand continued to scratch out notes and jot down little snippets of information on the papers in front of him, so that he could hand it back to Shiki the next day and collect his money and have done with the whole thing. Ignoring an email from some anonymous man who was just a little plaything should be easy for someone like him, with a will as strong as an ox, and yet-

Izaya still found himself caving less than ten minutes later, tapping out a quick reply, if only to shut up the man on the other end and stop bothering him. Shinozuka wasn't playing by the rules. It was his turn to reply, it was his turn to choose what was said. He was in charge, he was the boss, and he was- not Shinozuka. It didn't work that way. The other man was an idiot; he wasn't playing by the rules.

Heh, wasn't that what Izaya wanted though? This was another one of those twists, another little twist to the character of Shinozuka Heikichi that served only to irritate him instead. It was as if this game was moving entirely too fast for him, he didn't like it, it was meant to be him setting the pace, not his plaything. That was breaking the rules, it was—

'_Yeah, snowed under with work~.  
>Sounds like you had fun the other night, hm?<br>Good for you Shino-chan.  
>We'll catch up later, I have a lot of work to do~.'<em>

There. Done. Dusted. Now he could get on with his work and Shinozuka fucking Heikichi would stop bothering him. Dumb, stupid, idiotic, wonderfully fascinating, marvellous human; what a plaything he had chosen, and what a game this was turning out to be.

Izaya's plan was squashed though with the arrival of another ping, another announcement of 'You've got mail~!' from a voice that was just mocking him now. Shinozuka always defied the rules, always did what he wasn't meant to do. Izaya had said he was busy, said they'd talk later, and yet here was the other man, emailing him silly. Idiot. Bastard. Dumb oaf. Not all humans were this irritating, Izaya was certain, they weren't, because that was why he loved them so, and yet-

'_I did have fun – as much fun as you can have on your own.  
>Bet you would have had a better time than me though.<br>It's not really my scene, and I don't know, the guy was a bit—_

Email me when you're done or something.'

And yet Shinozuka Heikichi had captivated Izaya's attention, wholly and truly.

Why? Why had he? It was stupid, pathetic, it was just a game and he was just a plaything. Was it because they'd never met? Was it because Izaya had yet to see the delicious twinkle of emotion in the other man's eyes? Had yet to see his heart breaking on his face? He'd watched all his other victims – no, no, playthings – come to crumble in front of him. He couldn't see that with Shinozuka, because he'd never seen Shinozuka, and Shinozuka had never seen him.

Izaya smirked. The solution was simple. One simple thing and these feelings of irritation would be gone and he could enjoy the game again. Fabulous, wonderful, brilliant!

'_Hey, Shino-chan?  
>You had a bad time on your own – I bet I can fix that.<br>Wanna meet?'_


	14. Chapter 14: Wanna Meet?

**Author's Note:** Kind of another filler, the next chapter is delving into some real emotion so I want to take my time with that, but still wanted to update today. The next chapter may or may not be posted tonight, it depends on how quickly I can write and tweak it. If not, tomorrow it'll be here!

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><p>'<em>Hey, Shino-chan?<br>You had a bad time on your own – I bet I can fix that.  
>Wanna meet?'<em>

There had been a few times since the start of their friendship where Nakura had rendered Shizuo dumb, had rendered him unable to speak or think of just what kind of reply was needed. When he had opened his inbox, that message had not been one that he had expected to find. No, no, he had been expecting another scolding message, telling him off for interrupting his work and that they would talk later, and now Nakura had turned a complete three sixty turn on him. It made Shizuo's head spin. Nakura made Shizuo's head spin. It was captivating. It was impossible to keep up with, and yet—

'_Wanna meet?'  
>'Wanna meet?'<br>'Wanna meet?' _

What did it mean, what did it- it just seemed to echo in Shizuo's head over and over and over like a bad thought that wouldn't go away. He didn't understand; what were those words implying? Was it just an invitation for two friends to meet-up, to hang out and have a few drinks or was it something more, was an invitation for Shizuo to meet with Nakura, as not a friend, but a lover? Was Nakura expecting something of this? Was he expecting Shizuo to come along, to turn up and for the two of them to just tumble into bed together as he had come to learn was the reason that most people were even on these sites. No. He doubted that, Nakura wasn't here for that. Maybe he wouldn't complain if that happened, and maybe Shizuo wouldn't either, but that wasn't what was going on here. But fuck, it didn't mean that Shizuo knew what was going on. They'd not been talking long, a few weeks, maybe a month or a bit, he didn't know, it seemed like mere days yet he knew it was more than that. Nakura already knew him so well, because Shizuo didn't seem to be able to stop talking to the man, and yet- did Nakura feel he knew Shizuo well enough to meet? He didn't know, in fact Shizuo barely knew anything substantial about the other man. Was that normal, was that how relationships worked? Heh, he doubted it. This online thing, whatever it was, was far from conventional.

'_Wanna meet?'  
>'Wanna meet?'<br>'Wanna meet?' _

Shizuo did want to meet. He did. And yet- he wasn't ready for the inevitable departure of Nakura from his life when they finally did. Because what would happen with Nak, his dear friend Nak, finally found out that Shinozuka Heikichi was actually Shizuo Heiwajima? He had fancied that Nakura would know Shizuo well enough to not be thrown off by that, to give him a chance, and yet, when Shizuo knew nothing about the man, how could he predict what he would do. Wanna meet? Oh, yes, yes! No, no, no. Half an hour had passed by the time that Shizuo had formed a clear enough head to reply, without sounding like some schoolboy freaking out about some new fad that was rushing through his school. Shizuo had never been into fads; he had never been into things that were there one minute and gone the next. He liked things with impact, things that cried 'look at me, here I am!' like thunder. Thunder, thunder, thunder, that was Shizuo all over.

The sound of his keyboard clicking throughout the room seemed louder than normal, and he had to concentrate harder than normal to pick out the characters he wanted to form his reply.

'_That sounds like a great idea and all Nak, it's just—  
>We don't really know each other that well yet, do we?'<em>

He didn't understand what was going on. Nakura had to be talking in some kind of dating code, didn't he? That was the only explanation, because he wasn't making sense. Shizuo was knew to this, he was, one shitty night with some jerk in a grotty bar wasn't going to turn him into an expert of love, it wasn't, it was just going to mean that when he finally met Nakura that he would have some idea of what to do if the two of them ever turned physical. Shizuo's cheeks coloured. And yet, Nakura didn't seem to have any knowledge of love either, from what Shizuo had been able to tell from the emails he had sent, just sex, which was all he ever seemed to talk about, never love, never any substantial feelings. Had Nakura ever been in love? Was that why he was here, like Shizuo? He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't—

Nakura's reply came almost instantly. Shizuo was certain that not even a minute had passed since he had replied, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Had the other man been sat, waiting for a reply? He felt guilty for keeping him wait if that was the truth.

'_Oh. I guess I have been a bit greedy with all the questions haven't I?  
>I think I know you pretty well by now Shino-chan.<br>Suppose I return the favour, would that make you agree to meet?  
>I'm willing to give you a month to ask me whatever you want, deal?<br>And when that month is up, we're meeting, or I'm coming to get you~  
>Come, come Shino-chan~ You don't wanna make me cry now do you?'<em>

Shizuo's mouth tweaked at the corners on reading that reply, before he could stop himself, before he could remember who he was and that Shizuo Heiwajima didn't smile. And just like that it seemed that Nakura had forgotten about his work, and that they were heading into their normal chatter that followed when they started to talk. It was nice, it was great, it was— Shizuo enjoyed the companionship, he enjoyed having someone there who seemed genuinely pleased to talk to him. Fuck, fuck, this guy was even pleading with Shizuo to meet. The boost to his confidence, to his ego, it was instantaneous. He'd already flourished since he'd first started talking to Nakura, had already branched out further in a month than he had in all of his life, and he knew that with this man by his side or in his inbox, he could carry on taking not just baby steps, but huge stag leaps into being a better person. He would.

But what had he done for Nakura? Had he affected the man at all? He never spoke about what he was feeling, and that worried Shizuo, it did, because keeping things like that bottled up wasn't good. It wasn't, and he would be the best person in all of Ikebukuro to know about things like that.

'_Anything I want? You mean that?  
>Okay, are you ready? I'm not going easy on you, Nak.'<em>

Again, Shizuo barely had to wait for a reply. It seemed like he had just clicked the 'send' button when the voice was announcing 'You've got mail!' to him again, and Nakura's name was popping up in his inbox. His name was all over Shizuo's inbox, because Tom and Kasuka were the only others with his email, and the two of them never bothered to or had time to email him. Nakura, Nakura, Nakura.

'_Of course I'm ready Shino-chan.  
>Bring it on baby~.'<em>

That caused Shizuo to flush at little, the casual use of a pet name sending dots of red across his cheeks. The blonde paused before replying, pulling a cigarette from the box on the desk and resting it between plump lips, igniting the end so that he could keep a cool head through what was obviously turning out to be a huge turning point in their relationship. Whatever that relationship was, because he sure as hell didn't know. The smoke curled towards the ceiling, as vague and hard to grasp at the man that he was talking too, impossible to catch, impossible to get any answers from it had seemed, until now. Yeah, until now.

'_Two questions – hope they won't be too hard for you, eh?  
>First – why did you join this site?'<em>

He had only posted one – with the intention to not try and freak Nakura out too much. It was obvious the other man didn't like to share or he would have done so before, and Shizuo could at least respect that and not press the man for too much personal information at once. Yet he was surprised to see a reply in his inbox just seconds later, and wondered just how he could have replied, was his answer that simple?

'_And the second?'_

But no, no, Shizuo was wrong. He hadn't attempted to reply just yet. Looked like he wanted to see what they both were and then mull over how to reply. Shizuo expected he would wait for a reply then. He knew, he knew it wasn't easy, and yet- it was funny. Nakura found so much ease in doing things that Shizuo had never done before, and then there was this, and Shizuo felt like he had guided the other man in with a gentle hand and kindly smile. Virtual smile, whatever, whatever, they'd never met and Shizuo had always had a goofy smile anyway. He never smiled. Well, almost never.

'_The second-? – How do you feel about me?'_

He was smiling now, but when Nakura's reply came, would he still be smiling then?


	15. Chapter 15: Questions

**Author's Note: **This was a race against the clock to get up, my internet kept cutting out. hsdjfhsdjfhsjdhfsdf. I MADE IT THOUGH.

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><p>'<em>Why did you join this site?'<br>'How do you feel about me?'_

Izaya laughed. His chair kicked out from where it had been tucked under the table, his arms thrown up above his head, dancing with a glee he didn't really feel. He was used to outward shows of emotions, he was used to playing roles, and this one was no different. This mask of his had been slipping lately, and it was about fucking time he put it back in place. Shinozuka Heikichi wasn't going to ruin it for him, he wasn't going to ruin the game and he wasn't going to ruin Izaya's mood. He was in control, Izaya was, he always had been, always would be. The second that Shinozuka was in charge would be the second that Izaya would make sure a knife found its way to his neck. Shinozuka's of course, what use was Izaya himself dying? He couldn't leave his humans alone after all, couldn't leave all of this behind.

The whole idea was laughable. Shinozuka wanted to know did he, he wanted the truth? Ha. Ha. He couldn't handle the truth even if Izaya gift-wrapped it in some pretty box and presented it to the man with a free plate of the finest sushi. Normal men didn't understand games like his, they just didn't. That's why they were always just pawns and never the Kings and Queens on the board, just pawns. And yet- and yet- there was something princely about Shinozuka. Izaya guessed it was that stupid purity the man had, that stupid pride or valour or whatever the hell had meant that Shinozuka had gone for twenty-four years without being used by some scumbag before.

It was laughable, wasn't it? Asking a man like Izaya what he _felt. _Izaya didn't feel, he didn't feel a damn thing anymore. That wasn't good for business, or so he'd been told, and he'd taken those words to heart, had never looked back since. Fuck this and fuck that, it worked for him, he didn't need anything, he didn't need emotion to run his life and run it well, he didn't need anything or anyone, certainly not men like—

Izaya laughed because he didn't know what else he was supposed to do.

He didn't understand, and that was saying something, because Izaya knew everything, there wasn't a thing he didn't know. The information broker made everything his business, he knew every single detail inside and out, knew how they acted and what made them tick, he knew about every, single thing, except one. One irritating, fucking, man; Shinozuka Heikichi was going to be the death of him. He was a monster, a monster, a monster, so then why was Izaya feel so—

'_Shino-chan certainly doesn't hang around does he? I like that in a man~._

You want to know why? Honestly and truly?  
>I was bored, and playing games is no fun alone.<br>And you? You fascinate me, you're fun~  
>I know everything about you and you still manage to surprise me.<br>Ah~ makes me sound so heartless, doesn't it?'

That would satisfy the man wouldn't it? Shinozuka was used to feeding off of the barest details of Izaya's life, the way he felt on a subject if the other man really pressed, though he rarely did. It was true, every word that he'd written, and yet there was no way that Shinozuka could read it to truly understand Izaya, there was nothing in there that told the other man anything of himself. That was a good thing, it was. He saw humans make that mistake every day. That was the number one rule in life, never open yourself up to someone, or else they'll destroy you. That was just how the world worked, simple facts of life, something that if Izaya had his way every child would be taught in school. Give up now, just give up, and live for yourself, for no one else other than you. Be fucking selfish, because that's just what everyone else in life was, selfish, selfish, selfish. And hey, hey, heeeey, it had gotten Izaya to where he was, it had gotten him this high life, this big home, this fabulous existence. Fabulous and wonderful and—

The work that Izaya had been doing for Shiki was shoved to one side of his desk now, forgotten and shoved way down on his priorities list. Fuck it and fuck Shiki, he could deal with it all later once he'd crushed these stupid ideas that Shinozuka had gotten to get to know Nakura – no, no Izaya – better. What a laughable notion, what a stupid, idiotic, pathetically human and hopelessly fucking sickly sweet romantic idea. Idiot, bastard, stupid, stupid, stupid—

Izaya was being stupid by letting this get to him. He just had to lie. He was good at lying. It was like second nature to him, his tongue was as sharp as his knife, able to build up a wall of words around himself in mere seconds, in the single blink of an eye. People scheme and people lie and Izaya was one of them. He lied all the time, when it suited him and even when it didn't, just to see what twisted situations would come of it. He had lied then and it had saved him from his downfall, back then, in those dark days- those days- those—

'_Who fucked you up so badly that even now you throw up walls around yourself?  
>I can go knock some sense into them if you like, I'm pretty strong, ya know?'<em>

The information broker laughed at that. He did. He really did. One of those few laughs that he actually meant, one of those few genuine shows of amusement, and had lost the tinny edge of the laugh that he had forced out earlier. The very idea of Shinozuka doing just that was laughable, it was a hopeless human thing to say, such a naïve notion that a gesture like that would make everything better. It seemed that his Shinozuka was still just the same as ever, regardless of the fact that he and some scumbag had gotten hot and heavy in an apartment that Izaya imagined must be seedy and vile. It was like that cliché couple thing wasn't it? The jealous partner, always out to protect their lover, always getting over protective. Their partner would always scold them for that, tell them they were stupid, and yet their always secretly liked it, didn't they? Not that that was happening here, because Izaya didn't need protecting, not anymore, he had learnt to fight his own battles, had learnt to stand on his own two feet, he had, and that was all that mattered. He didn't need anyone, he didn't. Never did and never would.

But fuck, when had Shinozuka gotten so damn sharp? When had the man stopped just being a naïve idiot and actually started to see and look into their emails? He must have started to realise the meaning behind what Izaya was saying, or in this case, the significance of what he wasn't saying must have given the game away. Aw, no, no, it was cute, it was, and Izaya was so flattered, this man, worried for him, for his mental state. He didn't need to be. Izaya was fine, right as rain, sane as the next information broker in town— oh wait, no, no, he'd run him out of the city, ha. Ha. Didn't matter, didn't change a thing. Izaya wasn't crazy, he didn't need help. Shinozuka was just being curious, that was all, it would go away, all Izaya had to do was lie enough to make the other man shut up with awkward questions that Izaya didn't want to answer.

Yeah, yeah, he was good at lying. It was easy, easy as breathing or skipping down the street or dodging vending machines in the afternoon sunlight. And yet— and yet— When Izaya clicked onto the reply button, when he started to type out a reply, he couldn't think of one single reply to satisfy himself or Shinozuka. But he still continued to type, and type, and type, and by the time his reply had done, there was just pure truth in the words that he had written.

'_Eh~ I think I'll pass on that. I'd rather you didn't get beaten up~.  
>What would I do to pass the time without you Shino-chan, heh?<em>

_Love is a monster, Shino-chan. Ah~ but you wouldn't know this, would you?  
>Not all men are going to give you what you want; never forget that~<br>Some of them are just going to toss you away like a cheap doll no matter what you feel.  
>I met a man like that once.'<em>

It was all too fucking much. It was stupid; it was irritating that his own game had been turned on him this way, and it was ridiculous that his own plaything was saddling him with these unnecessary feelings. This wasn't part of the plan, this wasn't supposed to happen. Izaya could feel the dizzying reality crashing down on him; he could feel the grip on his control slipping from his fingers with every email that passed between him and this man. When had they taken such a violent shift in relationship, when had everything turned, when had Shinozuka gone from a mere pawn to a Prince, on his way up to the spot of King. What a game this was turning out to be, even more turbulent than anything Izaya had played before.

It was stupid it was—

The paperwork at the other end of the table just seemed like a bad reminder now, of the past that had been unwittingly dredged up by the idiot, the moron, the bastard on the other end of the email connection. Shiki didn't care, Shiki probably wasn't even aware that Izaya was still thinking of whatever the fuck had gone down when he had been just a young, foolish kid. Of course even teenagers need someone to look up too, and when Izaya had left home, when he had run from- ha! When he had run from feelings that he didn't need, from baggage weighing him down at home, he had needed one even more. A scrawny boy of barely fifteen, fuck, of course he had needed someone. Izaya wasn't normal, he never had been, and yet there was that flicker of humanity in him, that tiny spark of desperation that he had long since squashed down. Of all the people that could have picked him up on the street in his first week since he had left home, had left his parents on an angry whim, he was lucky that it had been Shiki. Ha, ha. Had it been? The man had been his downfall, the man had been the one to craft Izaya into who he was today, he had been, it had been—fuck, so long ago and yet it was all still. Clear as glass, sharp as the blade of Izaya's knife. Shiki had been everything that Izaya had looked up too, had been everything to him, in every possible fucking sense of the word.

But love was a monster wasn't it, and now Izaya could barely dare to look at the man. He couldn't look at that scarred face without feeling queasy just thinking of whatever the mess of events were that had happened back then. Back then. It was flooding back, and Izaya hated it. He hated Shinozuka for bringing it up, he hated the paperwork for hanging around like a bad reminder, and he hated himself because it didn't matter because he didn't need anyone, certainly not Shiki. No, no, that bastard was happy now wasn't he? He was content and he didn't have any trouble calling Izaya in for work, he didn't feel a thing remembering what he had done to a still broken teenage boy. Bastard, bastard, bastard- if the man didn't have so many juicy cases, so many connections, and such a place in Izaya's respect even now, he was sure he would have stuck a knife in his neck long ago.

Izaya didn't need feelings. They got him nowhere. They were messy and pathetic and he had watched human after human crumble down before, in front of his eyes, because their hearts were broken or because they felt so fucking sad. Boo hoo. Izaya didn't care. He didn't have a heart. It didn't matter what Shinozuka said. He was heartless, he was a cold, cold bastard and that dumb moron wasn't getting another thing from Izaya's – no, no, Nakura's – mouth. Izaya didn't share, whether it was food or love or personal past history, Izaya didn't share.

He was still fuming at the paperwork, at himself, whatever, whatever, he didn't know, he wasn't mad. He was ice, he was lighting, he didn't feel a thing, cold and hot and dangerous and cool and what, and what. He was fine, he was cold, he was absolutely fine. Shiki was just some guy, some guy he got work from. It had all been going so well, Izaya had been doing so well in forgetting, had settled into a good life for himself away from all of that, all of the mess that came with Shiki and with him. He had his humans and his work and his games and that was good, and then Shinozuka had come barging in and ruined it all. Fucking oaf, dumb, idiot, moron—

The little voice of his computer broke through with a chipper chorus of 'You have mail!' Izaya wanted to punch a hole in the screen to shut it up. He was turning more and more into the brute by the second. There was another ping, and Izaya's eyes drifted to the inbox, finding it filled with the name of the man who had him so wound up. It was odd, it was annoying, and yet—

'_I'm sorry, Nak. I understand.'_

Sorry? Sorry for what? For what had happened to him? For bringing it up? Yes, yes, he had better be fucking sorry, because Izaya was feeling all these stupid feelings, all of this. He didn't like it. He didn't understand. What the hell was going on? It was dizzying, it was petrifying. Izaya felt like he had caught some kind of virus that was burning through his system, that was the only way to explain it, wasn't it? Sorry, sorry, sorry. What was sorry? What did sorry mean? He understood? Understood what? He didn't know anything, he didn't know what happened, he didn't know anything, anything, he knew nothing.

Sorry couldn't fix everything, and yet—

There was a cool, calming wave that seemed to be spreading through Izaya's gut now, cooling the fire, cooling the temper that had been seething under his skin. Sorry, sorry_. _Shinozuka was understood. Izaya wasn't going to acknowledge when he had started shaking or when liquid had pooled in his eyes – it was his allergies, clearly Namie had neglected to dust over here.

No one understood. No one was sorry for anything that happened to him. Ever. Never. Shiki hadn't. And yet—

Shinozuka understood. He was sorry.

What the hell did that mean nothing at all—?

And everything all at once?


	16. Chapter 16: I Can Do It Better

**Author's Note: **Can this still be considered a filler when it's over 2,000 words long? I have two mock exams tomorrow & I am finding myself updating this instead of revising. My priorities are clearly sorted just right.

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><p>There was music in the air tonight. It was deep and it was loud, throbbing and pulsing as if it were actually very much alive. Bodies had flocked to the dance floor of the little bar, the little club, the little whatever it was, sliding between each other, grinding and dancing and mixing with each other so that there was a permanent sheen of sweat and heat that surrounded them. The bar was fairly quiet; a handle of people – men and women – remained perched on bar stools, sipping at drinks that sang of alcohol. The barkeepers attended to them with fake smiles, reeling in the tips by flashing a bit of skin every now and then. They knew how to work it; they knew how to make things work to their advantage. Izaya had always found the bartenders in places like this fascinating; they were pure selfishness hidden behind perfect smiles and perfect hair. There were places like this all over Ikebukuro and Shinjuku, hell all over Tokyo if one just knew where to look. Izaya always knew just where to look. What sort of information broker would he be if he didn't?<p>

He'd left the jacket at home tonight. The fur trims and thick material would have been suicide in a place like this, where the temperature rose by about ten degrees when one stepped in. Body heat was an amazing thing, wasn't it? He would have boiled alive as soon as he came through the doors wearing that thing. Besides, he was here for a break now, one of those little splurges of immorality that every good guy needs once in a while, and that coat held too many memories that Izaya didn't want hanging around him. It stunk, not literally, for he would never let such a thing happen, but it stunk of the past and angry ghosts that lingered around it. Maybe it was time for him to get a new damn jacket after all, a new image, something more appropriate for his role of guardian of all humans, their father, their lover, and their sweet little friend.

And hey, hey, how could expect to reel in someone if he was sweating and swooning in all the wrong ways? No, no. It was better the jacket had stayed at home, tucked over the back of his chair with Namie's distrusting eyes to watch over it like it were as precious as a child. It was really. No. No. It was just a jacket, and he wasn't a materialistic guy like his humans were, no, he'd had no trouble switched his usual wear for a pair of jeans in the same black as his hair and a t-shirt. They clung to him as if he had been born in them or they had been painted on, the denim of his jeans hugging to the curve of his hips, where they hung low, exposing a sliver of hipbones. His t-shirt dipped down his chest in one of those little 'v' shapes, uncovering an expanse of chest. It had once been tight, a red shirt similar to ones he had worn in middle and high school, but he had changed since then, he had lost weight, and now the lean tone his possessed meant the t-shirt was much baggier than it had once been. Red, red, red. Izaya had used to wear red all the time, his life had been red, hot and passionate and— he only wore black these days, black and red and black and red and black and red.

He had been here for a while already, leaning against the bar after a drink - whiskey and a shot of coke, he liked things strong and he liked them hard. His hair had fallen into a casual disarray as he stood, peering out at the dance floor over the heads of people who were walking past. This was just what he needed. It was long overdue. Izaya didn't love, in fact he was pretty sure he had forgotten how to love, and he was pretty sure that he never wanted to love again, other than his humans of course. It wasn't love he was looking for tonight, it was pleasure. He just needed one of those nights to get hot and heavy with some guy, just a face without a name, and then he could go back on with his work and his games, his lust satisfied and sated for the time being. He had learned to thrill on encounters like these, they had become part of his routine, and he always enjoyed being able to exert that power, his influence, to draw in these men with the sway of his hips or the power of his eyes. Not one of them knew his name, and they never went back to his place, so he didn't need to consider they might want something more. What sort of civilised man puts out on the first meeting anyway? Ha.

He had handed in his work to Shiki, all of the information that the man had asked for, as quickly as he could without lingering in the place that morning; which in actuality had done nothing to help with Izaya's foul mood from the night before. He had left Shinozuka without an answer once again, because really, what was one expected to say to a stupid reply of 'I'm sorry?' Was Izaya supposed to thank him? What a ridiculous notion, the man was ridiculous, that wasn't how it worked. He could wait for a reply; it was his own fault for asking such personal questions and putting him in such a foul, foul mood. Really now, what sort of asshole just goes around wanting to know everything about everyone? It was just rude, really, rude, rude, rude. The older man had noted Izaya's irritable mood when he had seen him, though Izaya had been pretty damn sure he had perfected his mask of complete apathy, of complete glee. Damn Shiki and damn Shinozuka too. What was it about his humans these days? Always playing naughty, always doing naughty things that caused trouble for Izaya. He'd have to punish them if they kept on doing it, he really would.

It didn't take long to for Izaya to spot someone hovering by the edge of the dance floor, something that had caught his eye because of the delicious emotions flickering across his face. Ha, and maybe the fact that the man's ass looked pretty damn good in those jeans of his had had a little something to do with it too. Even Izaya had impulses; even he had desires that drove him into things like this. What sort of man would he be if he didn't? A smirk wormed its way onto the informant's mouth when the man in question turned, as if he could feel Izaya's eyes on him, and caught eyes with him. Izaya winked, and when the man smiled back in return, he pushed himself away from the bar to stalk over to his little plaything for the night.

"Hello handsome~" Izaya drawled out on arriving at the man's side, draping himself over him without another thought, one hand reaching up to run fingers through golden locks that sprouted from his head. The man leered back in return, snaking an arm around Izaya's slim hips to grab at his thigh. He introduced himself, but Izaya wasn't listening. He didn't need a name, he didn't plan on seeing this man again, but for the situation's sake, he introduced himself too. I'm Nakura, hi, hi, nice to meet you. Why no, I'm not seeing anyone, in fact there's no one I'm interesting in. You want to dance? Oh baby, baby, you're so hot, just baby- come and dance with me—

And then everything was just as Izaya had intended to be tonight. There was the bass pounding through his bones, setting the rhythm of his heart, there was this guy, attractive and hard in his jeans, grinding against Izaya and whispering lewd things in his ear and creating that delightful friction. Izaya lived for encounters like these. All the fruit of love but without any of its sting; who needed fucking love when you could just have fucking? This was Izaya's world, the one that he had been thrust into when he was still young. He had grown with it; he had loved it and lived it, and still did. He never wanted to leave, never wanted to grow up, because this was perfect and _god_— when random men like this were so good with their hands, why did Izaya need anything more? Why did he need to bother with people like Shinozuka? He didn't need pure, and he didn't need kind. He'd never had that. Shiki had never been either, and Izaya had loved him just fine. He needed hot and he needed dirty and he needed someone who was just like him, someone who didn't give a fuck about love either. Now that was a guy that Izaya could love, one of these scumbags, just like him, these primal creatures of love and sex and _fuck_—

He had to get out of here, and drag this man with him, because god, god, _and god _he couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't take this endless friction, he needed the release, he needed the pleasure, he needed this to clear his mind, to relax him, to get rid of the tension knotting up his shoulders. This was just what he needed; he had been craving it, right? That was why he had been so focused on Shino—

No, that was a lie, and a shit one at that. Izaya wasn't falling for it. He needed it. He needed this man, naked and flush against his skin. He needed him, he needed to feel hot kisses burning over his skin, teeth grazing and nipping and biting and he needed to connect with this man, he needed to be used and satisfy this fire in the pit of his stomach. The man was all over him as the two headed for the door as quickly as they could through the mass of sweaty bodies. Izaya could feel his hands sliding under his shirt and over his stomach, could feel fingers reached past the waistband of his jeans, could feel lips pressed kisses to Izaya's neck, nibbling as the two walked, glided, rushed out of the crowd. It was what he needed, and yet there was nausea rising in the bottom of Izaya's stomach now at this man all over him. It was what he needed, and he did things like this all the time. He needed it and he needed it now, to fill the gnawing whole in his stomach, and that funny feeling that felt like guilt but Izaya knew was otherwise nibbling at his insides, like a knife, twisting over and over and over. Izaya had been there before. It was so wrong, so right, so _fuuuuck_— when hot men did that, who gave a damn if it was right or wrong?

If Shinozuka was allowed to fuck guys other than him, then damn, Izaya was too. Shinozuka wanted to play that game did he? He wanted to act like he cared and still go off with guys? Izaya knew that game. Izaya invented that game. He could play that game too; a game within a game, how interesting, how delightful; absolutely captivating. He could knock Shinozuka down a few pegs, get his payback for that dirty question and get laid in the process. It was a win-win situation, and yet—

No. didn't matter. The bile rising in Izaya's throat at this stranger's touch was no matter. The name of some other man popping into his head when fingers brushed against the swell in the front of his jeans was no matter either. It was sex. It was love. It wasn't anything but a fantastic game; one that Izaya was going to win.

Shinozuka Heikichi, eat your heart out because Izaya Whorihara is back in town, and anything you can do, he can do so much better.


	17. Chapter 17: Proud

**Author's Note:** Mock exams and Japanese assessment went just fine, just have a presentation tomorrow and then I can have a break from college, whew! More time to spend on my lovely Shizaya couple~.

These chapters are getting longer and longer. I JUST CAN'T STOP WRITING. MY BOYS HAVE A LOT OF FEELING OKAY. Just checked the overall word-count for this story. It's over 25,000 words already, and we're not even a quarter of the way there yet. Are you guys sure you're ready for this? BRING. IT. ON.

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><p>There was no reply from the man on the other end of the line following Shizuo's brief apology. He guessed he hadn't really been expecting one straight away. There had been something in Nakura's words, they'd just struck a chord with him somehow, and he had regretted asking immediately. He didn't really know why he had apologised. Was it for asking, or was it because he was sorry that Nakura had been through something that had obviously left him the way he was today? Shizuo didn't know. He still didn't know what had happened to the other man, only that <em>something<em> _had_ _happened_, and from the tone in Nakura's reply, he wasn't going to be pressing the matter until he was sure that the other man was ready for that, until he had calmed down or whatever he needed to do. Shizuo had waited for an hour before accepting that Nakura wasn't going to reply that night, at which point he had switched off his computer and let it be. That was fair enough, it was all about compromise, wasn't it? Nakura needed some time, and Shizuo was willing to give him that if it was what he needed. It was what friends did, wasn't it? It was what lovers did?

That had been the night before last, but Shizuo wasn't going to press like he did before. This wasn't just a case of him being impatient. He'd clearly touched on something that Nakura didn't want to be touched upon, and now he had to deal with the fallout of that. Not that it mattered, it was his job right? Well—perhaps not a _job_. They weren't together, not anything like that, nothing remotely close to that. Love didn't work that easily. It didn't work that way or that smoothly or that quickly. It took time, and the two of them had only known each other for a month, or perhaps a little over that. It wasn't enough time to fall in love, was it? Shizuo didn't really know. He'd never been in love before. He didn't even know what it was meant to feel like. Was it supposed to be like in all those cheesy movies, or was it something else, something different that years of love poems ad novels still struggled to capture? He'd had to study poems at school; he had thought they were stupid then, sappy. Now? Now they seemed to make perfect sense, seemed to be just what he was looking for, hoping to feel himself. Funny how things can change in such a short space of time, eh?

If he was honest, he didn't know what he felt about Nakura. It was such a foreign experience to him that he wasn't sure what he was even meant to feel at this stage. Shizuo Heiwajima in the world of online dating, the very idea was laughable, and yet he was doing it, and as far as it had gone, he was enjoying it too. It was an odd thing, to be talking with a man like this. He wasn't sure what their relationship was. They were friends, weren't they? He didn't know. Nakura knew everything about him and yet he still knew very little about Nakura, and they'd never actually met. Can one be friends with someone they've never met, let alone fall in love with them? Shizuo was beginning to think that maybe Nakura was right, maybe they should meet and he should just abandon all reservations and throw himself in head first. It wasn't as if the fall would hurt him, Shizuo's body didn't feel pain after all. He'd been shot, and stabbed by that crazy kid with a million crazy pens, that hadn't hurt, and yet- he had the feeling the sting of love would hurt more. If he felt pain that is, which he didn't.

Tonight he had left the computer off – any emails would appear on his mobile too, so he could see if Nakura had replied – choosing instead to head out to Ikebukuro and wonder the streets. He hadn't bothered to change out of his uniform, but he had crammed in the box of cigarettes and the lighter that accompanied him everywhere. One was tucked between his lips now, nestled there like an old friend, smoking curling sensually out of the tip. It had been a while since he'd just gotten out of his apartment and walked. Just walked, in the night and under the lights. It had been before Nakura, certainly. Shizuo always seemed to waste away the night – and quite often any free time he had in the day – talking with the other man, picking apart the world and chatting about plays or novels that Nakura insisted that Shizuo had to see.

It was chilly out, now that winter had finally swept in to grip the city, and Jack Frost seemed to delight in covering the trees outside of his window with little droplets of slightly frozen dew each morning. The light had already been chased from the sky by the arrival of the moon and stars that were barely visible over the light of the city. It was so bright that one might even make the mistake of thinking it was still daytime, and every building was lit up in such a way that they themselves looked like stars. Walking in the eerie glow of the fluorescent street lights, Shizuo wasn't sure what he looked like. They seemed to light up his skin in ghostly tones, bounce off of the gold of his hair and send it shooting back to compete with the stars themselves, such a princely, romantic image for a cold monster such as he. Even in this late hour, the streets were still busy. They were not nearly as crowded as they were in the daytime, but handfuls of people still hurried past, chatting and laughing as they headed to and from work and the like. Trains still rattled around, the sound of cars and vans nearby, though this would die down soon when the night-time really hit, and the inhabitants of the daytime hid away in their homes, letting the creatures of the night come out to play. Shizuo was certain that as he walked down the hotel avenue, lit with the bright and cheery lights of hotels and motels and seedy little inns, that he heard the braying of the Headless Rider's bike a few streets away. The blonde couldn't help but let his lips twist in a brief smile that fell as soon as it rose; Celty was always out at night, and Shizuo always enjoyed running into her. There was something soothing about the way she spoke, and she didn't need to have a physical voice in order to calm Shizuo down and hold his respect for her. He half wondered what she would have to say on the matter of Nakura – chatting with people online that he'd never met. Would she agree with him, or disagree, tell him that it could only end badly?

It was always so quiet at this time of night, and Shizuo found that this was one of the best times for him to think, because there was nothing to wind up his temper, except for the occasional appearance of little ticks that he sent flying away with vending machines or fence posts. Tonight was one of those nights where he was just allowed to think, and his brain seemed to be taking advantage of it, though the way it was heading, Shizuo wasn't sure if that was good or not. Nakura, that's what it kept talking about. Nakura, Nakura, Nakura. What other thing could it be thinking about? He had thought that he was making the right move by asking him what was wrong, by trying to find out the reason why Nakura had been so guarded, because there had to be one, there just had to be. Nobody's past was perfect, no one was without their flaws, and that meant there must be something in the other man's life that was wrong, that was bad, that was— maybe not everyone saw sharing in relationships as a good thing. This wasn't a relationship though, it wasn't anything, so Nakura didn't have to say anything, but there was something there, there had to be, some wish to be understood or some other kind of cliché bullshit that Shizuo had seen on daytime television programmes far too often. Maybe he had offended the other man in a way that he had not intended, or maybe it had just been too soon to ask something that deep, though Nakura had seemed to have no trouble doing so before. Funny how things can change when the tables turn. Shizuo had been captivated by Nakura early on, had learnt to trust the man with just the span of a few emails and teasing comments his way. He was attached, though in what sense or what context he didn't know, and yet he knew that Nakura didn't necessarily feel the same way. Who was Nakura? The man was a mystery, one that Shizuo wanted to figure out and yet knew that he couldn't on his own, he needed help, he needed Nakura to drop clues here and there to follow, like some sort of epic treasure hunt.

Was this what love felt like? The desire to know someone else so truly that you— that didn't seem right, no, no, it didn't. Shizuo still wasn't sure. He liked talking to Nakura, he was flattered – and embarrassed – by every suggestive comment the man sent his way, and yet he didn't think he loved him. He had no trouble in going to that bar, in letting that man take him in that way, touch him the way he did. He hadn't felt any guilt for that, because the notion was ridiculous, he and Nakura were— would he have felt guilty if he loved Nakura? What would happen if he went with another man now? He wanted Nakura to reply, but he knew it wouldn't be a big deal if the other man never did. Shizuo would accept that, he would mourn the end of their relationship as friends or acquaintances or whatever and that would be that, back to the drawing board once again. No, that couldn't be love. Love was one of those feelings that made you feel as if you were going to die without them by your side, it was one of those feelings where you hated the idea of them being with anyone else, it was one of those feelings that messed with your mind, turned it upside down. Shizuo didn't feel any of that, and yet—

When his phone vibrated, signalling an email from Nakura, his mouth still curved into a smile that was reserved solely for the other man. He still didn't hesitate to flip open the little gadget and read what he had said as quickly as he could. The very fact that he had replied after that was a good thing, right? It was a sign that he was doing something right, that he hadn't messed up this shot at love or friendship or anything like that just yet.

'_Sorry I'm only just replying, Shino~  
>You know me – busy, busy, busy!<br>I actually went out to a little club last night.  
>Only just got back in, if you know what I mean~?<em>

_Didn't mean to give you the cold shoulder._  
><em>How have you been? Did you miss me?<em>  
><em>Anyway~ I'm ready for your next question now.<em>  
><em>Better make it a good one, I'm feeling honest tonight~<em>  
><em>x '<em>

The email was such a giant leap, even Shizuo could tell, such a giant shift in their relationship. It was still that same teasing tone that Nakura always had, and yet even he could see the undercurrent of seriousness masked behind the words and the little '~' and the kiss at the end. A kiss. Kiss, kiss, _kiss_. Did Nakura want to kiss Shizuo? Shizuo was pretty sure he wouldn't complain. This wasn't love though, this wasn't, it couldn't be, and it was too soon, wasn't it? It was too soon and Shizuo didn't feel anything like the way he was meant to feel in love. He didn't seem to feel a thing for Nakura's less than subtle hint that he had sex the previous night. Was he meant to feel jealous? He didn't know. What did jealously feel like? He wasn't angry. He was elated, strangely proud of his Nakura for working above his fear and replying, and not just replying, but doing so the way he did. He wanted Shizuo to know him, didn't he? That promise of honesty and the reminder of Shizuo to ask whatever he wanted, that wasn't just for show. He was making progress, wasn't he? It was almost funny. When Shizuo had first joined, he had no idea the ways of love or sex. Nakura had been the one to tell him all about it, had guided him through like a teacher, like a guardian angel. Now it seemed so funny that these seemed to have swapped, that now it was Shizuo guiding Nakura through, gently easing the man into what was expected in society like leading a child by the hand. Funny, so funny, even because Shizuo still didn't know really what society dictated they had to do; what he knew was not from experience, but from what he had read in books or seen in cheesy romance movies.

This must be what love was like, but Shizuo didn't know, in fact he was oblivious to it all, oblivious to the beginnings of love and trust that had somewhere popped up in the virtual connection between Nakura and Shinozuka, of himself. He didn't know, not even remotely, just continuing on as if there wasn't something starting to sprout between the two of them. He didn't know.

Shizuo smiled.

He couldn't help it as he opened up the reply button so that he could send an email back, to let Nakura know he was there, reassure the other man that he wasn't running. Would that remain the same when Nakura found out who Shizuo was? Maybe, maybe not, but he hoped it would, because Shizuo knew he would never find another friend like Nakura in the course of his lifetime. Was this was love was? Was it? He didn't know. He certainly didn't think so. Love didn't feel like this, did it? Because Shizuo was a monster, and monsters don't love.

'_Would you let it go to your head if I said I had missed you?  
>Sorry, stupid question – of course you would.<br>You sure you're okay for more?  
>I'm not as nosy as you, you know. <em>

_I'm proud of you Nak.  
>x.' <em>


	18. Chapter 18: Slipping

**Author's Note: **I'm working on a special little Christmas one-shot as a present to all of you lovely reviewers. It's going to be fabulous, just you wait. This is up a little later today, my internet didn't seem to want to connect for me to post this for ages...

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><p>'<em>Would you let it go to your head if I said I had missed you?<br>Sorry, stupid question – of course you would.  
>You sure you're okay for more?<br>I'm not as nosy as you, you know._

_I'm proud of you Nak.  
>X.'<em>

What was that sound that Izaya could hear throbbing in his ears? It was faint, like the thrumming of a hummingbird's wings beating the air. It was deafening, like the sound of waves crashing and cascading against cliffs by the ocean. Throbbing, throbbing, throbbing, like the beat of a drum, drumming out a time that Izaya couldn't match his breathing too, couldn't match his thinking too. If he didn't know better, he'd have said it was the sound of his own heartbeat, catching in his throat, making itself all too known to him, exciting at the care and the emotion and the whatever the hell else in Shinozuka's reply. Izaya did know better though, it couldn't be his heart, because he didn't have one. Monsters aren't blessed with a thing as wondrous as a heart. This throbbing in his head, it wasn't a sign of love. Izaya couldn't love. He wouldn't. It was ridiculous that he was even considering this, or even bothering to mull over these supposed feelings. He didn't need a heart. No, he didn't need a heart. It would make things complicated, stupid. Izaya didn't have a heart. He didn't. He had begun to lose it the second he had run from home, when he had left his parents and his sister's behind without a backwards glance, but it wasn't until he left Shiki's side and bid the older man from his life that he finally cut it right out. It reminded him of that cheesy kids movie they'd translated from America a few years ago, what was it called again? Something about pirates, something about a dead man's chest, Izaya didn't know. He wasn't a kid; he didn't care for fads like that.

But the drumming in his head wouldn't go away, it was insistent, and only seemed to intensify as he re-read the email sat open in front of him, looking for a way to reply. He drummed his fingers against the desktop, in some kind attempt to balance out the noise, as if it were just a migraine or something and it would ebb away eventually. It was annoying, it was— Izaya didn't like being out of balance, he didn't like the feeling that his game was tipping further and further into Shinozuka's favour, he didn't like the fact that the control was slipping out of his grasp. This wasn't the way things worked, and if he was honest, even he was losing sight of the outcome he had intended this game to have. Ruin Shinozuka, had that been it? Right now, Izaya was focusing on making sure he didn't ruin himself, because that was where this was headed if he wasn't careful. He had gotten himself too immersed into his role, the role of the lonely, depressed Nakura. He had forgotten to detach himself, that was all, he just needed to take a step back and remember who he was. Then this would all go away, it would. And yet— Izaya had begun to let some of him and his emotions slip out, without having noticed it at the time, without being able to stop himself. When had that happened last? He knew the signs; he had been here before, all those years ago when Shiki had taken him under his wing. The sign that— no— no— this wasn't love. This wasn't, because Izaya couldn't love. It was physically impossible, his brain wasn't wired that way anymore, and he had completely shut down the notion that love was a good thing, because it wasn't. Shiki had taught him it wasn't, and now he had to teach Shinozuka, and re-teach himself by the looks of things.

It was just a fucking shame his body didn't seem to agree with his mind.

His heart was thrumming, thrumming, thrumming out a delighted tune in his ears, had caught in his throat, was swooping inside. What a naïve little— Izaya wondered if that pirate had such a bad idea, maybe he should cut the damn organ out now and be done with all of this. Then he could just live as he had done. He could play with his humans and go back to his games and tempting depressed teenagers into dark alleys and over the edge of tall, lofty buildings. He could get back to his work pulling at strings, crafting that street war, and wake up the Black Rider's head. Yeah, he was pretty sure his knife would be sharp enough to carve it out, and in fact, he was pretty sure that Namie would be more than happy to lend a helping hand; or Shinra in fact, he liked cutting things open, didn't he?

Izaya didn't know how many times he read this latest email, or why he needed to when he could have formed a reply after the first scan of the words. He didn't know, but he did it anyway. It was his game, he was allowed to take his time, and he was allowed to be irrational if he wanted. Shinozuka was proud of him. The words at the bottom did nothing to stop his body's treacherous reaction, and if anything only served to intensify the pounding in his head, in his chest, in his bones. What reason had he be to be proud? Well, no, that was a stupid question. Izaya knew what he meant. It was because he had promised to share more, he had shown that he trusted the other man and clearly that had settled well with Shinozuka, clearly Nakura had won some serious brownie points here. Izaya knew he could just lie for the rest of the questions that Shinozuka was going to ask, he could, and he knew that he probably should, yet there was that voice that nagged in the back of his head, the one that sounded just like Shiki, telling him that he wouldn't. The voice sounded smug. Izaya hated it already, and ignored it as easily as he ignored Namie when she was here. Shinozuka had missed him. He hadn't said it, but Izaya knew from his reply that was the case. He had actually missed him – no, no, he had missed Nakura, not Izaya – missed, missed, missed him. Ha, ha. Shinozuka was just being a romantic, oversentimental oaf. What a turn off. Who wanted someone nice? Who wanted someone thoughtful, caring? Izaya didn't. He wanted someone who was— no, he didn't want anybody. Not again. Not after the last time. He was happy to be alone, he was happy to be with just himself, because who could be better company for him than the expanses of his own wonderful mind?

And yet—

Izaya tapped the mouse, nudging it over the reply button so that a fresh email popped up for him to write all over. His face was blank, devoid of the smirk or the frown or the scowl that had come to be a standard expression when he emailed this other man. It was— this email of Shinozuka's was so very curious, and Izaya didn't know what to make of it. There was all of this cliché or romantic bullshit that had turned Izaya's own mind in on itself, had shifted his own opinions, his thoughts, and his game. It was as if his mind felt like it was moving too quickly for him, as if it were moving at such a pace that he just couldn't keep up with what it as feeling. It was as if his body was acting independently to his mind, as if it wanted one thing and his brain wanted another. His heart and his mind, stuck in one of those age old battles that he knew would not come to a pretty end. There was turmoil within him, and he was starting to feel disgusted in his own being. This was so pathetically human, such a weak flaw that he was even contemplating emotion and feeling and this was all such bullshit. This was all Shinozuka's fault, and he wasn't even playing the game the way Izaya had intended him too.

The man on the other end had completely ignored Izaya quip about his night out. What did that even mean? Shinozuka had told him when he had found some man in a bar, had gone back and been fucked or sucked or whatever the hell he liked to do. Izaya had at least acknowledged it, and here was Shinozuka acting like nothing had been said. What did it _mean? _Either the man just really didn't care what the hell it was that Izaya – no, no, Nakura – did in his free time, or he had not wanted to think of him with some other man, in a sweaty mess of sheets and tangled limbs, and so had just not commented on it at all. Neither reply seemed like the Shinozuka that Izaya had formed in his mind, the one he had thought he had all figured out would make some kind of naïve, flustered comment, and even that was missing from the email. He had known his actions, his words, would have, and in fact he had intended them too, have an effect on Shinozuka, but was this it? He hadn't expected the other man to shift that quickly, and he still didn't understand what had changed. When had his Shinozuka changed from an innocent, naïve boy into this man? More importantly, when had Izaya turned into Nakura and lost sight of himself? When had immersed himself too much into this fantasy world of his game? It was pathetic. He felt sick, and the throbbing in his ears still wouldn't go away. This wasn't love, this wasn't love, this wasn't love.

'_I'm hurt you think so little of me Shino-chan!  
>But delighted to hear you missed me~<br>Of course I'm ready, why wouldn't I be?  
>If this is what it takes to meet you, then so be it~<em>

_For what it's worth, I missed you too._  
><em>Baka!<em>  
><em>X.'<em>

Bullshit. Izaya wasn't ready in the least. He wasn't, he was— was this just Nakura he was playing now, was it just Nakura who missed him, or was this something else, something deeper and much more immediate that Izaya didn't want to address?

Fuck. _Fuck_. Love was a monster. It was just like him. It took no survivors. Gave no mercy.

This game of his had shifted now. It was dangerous and it was racy and it was much more serious than it had been originally. Shinozuka was in the game now, he was involved, and whoever fell first was the loser.

Izaya could already feel himself slipping.


	19. Chapter 19: Not That Different

**Author's Note**: I was reading up about Tom for this chapter, and I found this little line online -_ The light novels state that he works for an online dating website._ – CURRENTLY DYING OF LAUGHTER. THIS IS TOO PERFECT OH MY GOSH.

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><p>"What?" Shizuo growled out between a drag and exhale of his cigarette. The little white stick was perched between two slender fingers now, the cloud of smoke still lingering around in the air near his head. He was leant back against the cool wall of a building settled on a street near the metropolitan plaza. He didn't know what it was, some office block or apartment complex or something. Right now his attention was focused on the figure stood next to him, slouching somewhat with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The other man was dressed in a brown suit, with hair the same colour falling past his chin in thick little dreaded locks. The two of them were currently awaiting the arrival of one of their 'clients', who was due to pay up their loan today. Shizuo was mostly sure the rat wouldn't turn up, they never did, and he normally had to end up kicking down their door in order to get the money.<p>

"Oh, nothing," Tom answered, but the tone of his voice and the little lilt of his lips said a thousand different words. One of Shizuo's eyebrows arched in such a way that it told the other man he knew there was more too it. He could already feel the annoyance flushing under his skin. Shizuo never lost his temper with Tom, because Tom had employed him when no one else would, he had looked out for him in school, and because the damn debt collector had a way about him just like Celty, always knowing what to say to calm Shizuo down. There was a little pause, in which Shizuo took another drag out his cigarette, watching the smoke twirl out and dance upon the open air like ink lost in the depths of a bowl of water. Today had been relatively calm, and so the smoke had been more out of habit than because his temper needed calming down with a long nicotine fix. Humans always were creatures of habit.

"You just seem different today," Tom commented after a while, as if he had been debating on whether or not to say it. "You're quieter than normal,"

Shizuo scoffed and looked down the street from Tom; what as opposed to his talkative demeanour every other day? He supposed in some manner of speaking it was true. When they had visited their first client of the day, he had refrained from throwing the louse into the next country, instead merely kicking in the front door and shaking him around a bit. He'd still paid up, and Shizuo had managed to keep his temper somewhat in check. Shizuo had noticed the difference in himself, but had thought at least he was free from Tom or anyone else commented on that when he wasn't sure what it meant himself.

"Did something happen with Kasuka?" His boss enquired, and Shizuo turned back to the suited man to fix him with a steely gaze. Tom was one of two people able to mention his brother without being catapulted across the city with one of Shizuo's right hooks; the other was Nakura. The blonde almost smiled at Tom's concern, but he kept the same outside appearance, giving a curt shake of his head and a gruff 'hn' in response, returning to his cigarette, still unfinished. He could feel Tom's eyes on the side of his head when he turned away again, but chose to ignore it. Shizuo was good at ignoring people staring at him, he'd had it most of his life. Thankfully his boss appeared to not chase the subject, letting it fall away with the smoke from Shizuo's cigarette, drifting further and further from the pair of them with each second that past, dissipating into the air.

Shizuo was thankful for that indeed. How did one even begin to explain that their change in character was due to a new acquaintance, and an online one at that? How did one even begin to explain that they'd met through a dating website? – Even if Shizuo was still convinced that it had been Tom who had shoved that flyer for the site through his door in the first place. He knew the man had other business too, but Shizuo had never found of what. Though for now it seemed, neither was going to give anything away, and that was fine, Shizuo was fine with that. If anything, he should be thanking Tom, though his pride would never let him, because if he had been the one, then it was because of Tom that he had met Nakura, and it was because of Nakura that Shizuo was ever changing, forging forward into this better person.

Yeah, yeah. Shizuo knew he was different today, and he knew why. He'd always hated to think he was the type of man to be influenced easily by silly little things, and yet here he was, with his temper cooled for an entire day, just the result of a night of emailing some silly man over in Shinjuku. Nakura and he had stayed up late the previous night; Shizuo hadn't wanted to waste the opportunity to ask Nakura whatever he wanted, he had to make the most of the man being ready to divulge information about himself. Shizuo was entitled to a little bit of selfishness, wasn't he? Besides, no, no, it was a good thing. It wasn't good to bottle things up, and so he was really helping Nakura, wasn't he? That was what people did in relationships, it was, and even Shizuo knew that. And yet— The two of them weren't in a relationship, were they? They'd come so far, and learnt so much about the other, but they weren't a couple, in fact Shizuo didn't even know what they were. It didn't matter for the time being though, all that mattered was that Shizuo seemed to be getting the hang of this, and there was some- some feeling bubbling inside of his chest whenever he spoke to Nakura that gave him hope that maybe when they met it wouldn't all end in disaster like he had predicted it would. Nakura trusted him now, or did to an extent. And Shizuo trusted him too; there was no question of that. How much had last night proved that? Nakura had answered every question he had posed, had replied to every query of Shizuo's curious mind, had not hidden away from anything, baring himself out to Shizuo as if they'd known each other for years. All of that hidden past that Nakura had alluded too, all of the things that Shizuo had picked up on sly undertones to the other man's words, he knew it all now, Nakura had told him everything, or near enough to everything; he was still coy on just what he truly thought of Shizuo, something that had caused annoyance to burn within Shizuo.

Shizuo wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not that the other man hadn't left his mind since the previous night. He wasn't sure if these feelings stirring in him were good or not, he didn't even know what they were. He wasn't sure what it was about Nakura that made Shizuo feel so different. He didn't know.

"I'm not that different," Shizuo grumbled, though many minutes had passed, and Tom had probably forgotten to what he was even referring. There was a frown pulling at the blonde's features, crinkling his brow and tugging down at the corners of his lips as if someone was pulling them down with little fingers. He scoffed again, dropping the end of his cigarette to the floor and stamping out the spark with the ball of his shoe. "Look, he's not coming Tom. Let's just go to Simon's and forget about the rat for the day,"

Tom merely smiled, though Shizuo didn't see now that the blonde had pushed himself off of the wall and was starting to walk in the direction of the little sushi shop. Tom wanted to laugh. The Shizuo he had gotten so used to would have lost it at one of their clients pulling a disappearing act, would have taken it as a personal insult and ripped apart Ikebukuro as if he were looking for Orihara instead of someone skipping out on a bit of money. This Shizuo was someone entirely different, it was, and Tom had to wonder just what had prompted this change. There was some new light around the grouchy blonde, one that even Tom could see.

"Yes, you are," Tom Tanaka said, to himself of course, laughing ghostly light. The words caught on the breeze, like the smoke from the cigarette that now lay crushed on the floor, half-dying, stubbed out by the retreating blonde headed figure of a changed man. Tom shrugged a shoulder lazily, making off after his employee.

The cigarette sat, crumpled on the pavement, flickering out with the last of its light in the dying wind.

_"Yes, you are."_


	20. Chapter 20: Creatures of Habit

**Author's Note: **Just a quick update today - but I'll be posting two chapters tomorrow and those will both be long & filled with drama and wonderful things for to enjoy. Shiki is finally going to be making an appearance, which should be fun~. Welp, I can't wait to show them to you guys.

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><p>Humans were creatures of habit. They were, it was just fact. They adapted when and if they needed to, but they never liked to do so. Humans were creatures of habit that, usually, if they got set into their routines, didn't like to break out of them. Creatures of habit, through and through. Izaya could already feel his habits being broken, he could feel himself being forced out of this little set life that he had created for himself. Shinozuka was pulling him out of it, and Izaya didn't like it. Izaya didn't like it one bit.<p>

He and the other man had stayed up late into the night, and Shinozuka had kept up his promise not to go easy on Izaya - no, no Nakura - asking question after question that delved into his - no, no Izaya's - life. He had replied to each question, he had to do so or Shinozuka would flit out of Nakura's life and the game would be over, and yet- and yet that had been where the game had ended. Izaya had lost himself in this role of his, he had gotten himself too tangled up in this fascinating human, so much so that all thought of the Black Rider's head had been pushed to very back corner of his twisted mind. It was only on this game that he could focus on now, and he would see it through until the very end, so be it, he would. He was Izaya Orihara and he wasn't one to leave things half done, he just wasn't.

Shinozuka had asked about the man Izaya - no, no Nakura - had mentioned, the one that had fucked him up so badly. Izaya had told him about Shiki without a second thought, had simply tapped out the reply as if it were part of Nakura's fake history and not part of his own. If he was honest, sometimes it seemed so distant, so detached that Izaya wondered if it had ever truly happened. It had never used to hurt to think about before, Izaya had made sure of that, made sure to let Shiki and himself know that he was fucking well over it, and his life was just great. And it was, wasn't it? He lived in a posh loft in Shinjuku, had more money than he needed, ate the most expensive sushi every night - though lately his appetite had vanished and he had barely eaten - hell, he even had a slave in his employment; Namie practically was one with the little wage that he paid her. Ha. Stupid woman. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had com in this morning, but Izaya had taken one look at her and sent her back out the door again with a stack of paperwork to do for him before she next came in. He didn't need to see her smug little face today. Even she had noticed the irritation radiating off of him in the last few days at this game his, and had even had the balls to comment on it. Stupid, stupid, stupid woman. Didn't she remember he held her life in his hands?

Shinozuka had asked about family, and Izaya had answered bluntly with the truth. He had left home at just fifteen after a fight with his parents. They were normal, and Izaya was anything but. It was a relationship that had never worked, a relationship that would never had worked. He'd just packed a bag and left for Tokyo. He'd left for Tokyo and ended up roaming the streets for a week or more before Shiki had found him, half starved. He'd been an alley cat, dirty and wiry and though he'd nearly given up on himself he had still had enough fire left to swing a knife around at Shiki when the man had tried to come close. Maybe he should have stabbed the man then and saved himself the trouble. He'd been soft. And that was that, the story of how Izaya Orihara had ended up in the big city, all alone. He'd not spoken to his family since then, and he didn't plan too. He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone.

Shinozuka had asked so many things, and Izaya had answered; he had answered as if they meant nothing to him, as if he hadn't kept them locked away for so long. Shinozuka had prompted this sudden vomit of truth, and for that Izaya hated him. Hating the man was easy. It was easier than trying to understand how else he felt about him. Anyone can hate. It's an easy, easy, simple, easy emotion to fake, it's one that if you start acting on, will soon enough become how you truly feel. Izaya hadn't hated Shizuo at first, he had viewed him as one of his humans. Then the oaf had gone and turned that to smoke, shifting into that monster that everyone loathed. It was easy to hate Shinozuka, and Izaya would, he was good at hate, so good, so, so, good. It was easy to hate Shinozuka because he had turned Izaya into this pathetically honest human, the one who seemed incapable of fighting back his own past. Pathetic. This was all Shinozuka's fault.

Was it? Was it his fault?

Of course it was.

Of course.

He was going to destroy Shinozuka Heikichi, or destroy himself in the process. That was the only way, it was. The line was blurring, and he was slipping, and he didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. Because even he could see the warning signs, he could see them flashing in front of him and now was the time to stop, to remember who the hell he was and not turn into the Izaya Orihara he used to be. That scrawny little kid had died years ago, Shiki had seen to that, Shiki had killed him and brought the new, better Izaya into the world. Ha. Ha. Should he be thanking him for that? After all, Izaya was everything that human nature should be. Wasn't he? He was. He wasn't. Fuck Shiki and fuck this game. It was his game, his, and that was that. He was going to finish it just the way they had intended to do it. These stirrings inside him, they meant nothing, bullshit.

Izaya needed this done. He needed this game to end because hey, hey, it was getting boring now anyway. He needed it done, he was going to watch Shinozuka break, snap under his finger tips. It was time to move the next piece on the board. The game wasn't over yet, but Izaya would make sure it ended as quickly as possible.

If only for his own sake. Because he was slipping-

Slipping-

Slipping into love.

'_Let's meet. Tomorrow.  
>Ikebukuro Station - 2PM.<br>I'll be the one with the red scarf,  
>Don't be late~X.'<em>


	21. Chapter 21: The Early Bird

**Author's Note:** I had to split this chapter into two, oops. I got a bit, um, carried away.

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><p>The early bird always catches the worm. Izaya was always the sort of man to wake early, never one to waste the daylight hours. Today had been no different, and if anything, he had woken earlier, as soon as the first dusty rays of golden warmth had floated into the loft, drifting over the city, the land of the rising sun. It was funny that he should have such an urge to rise so early each day when really his work meant that he could have stayed in bed all morning if he had wanted to do so. It was funny that today he should awaken even earlier, simply because he was finally going to move his piece into check, in this funny little game of his. It was funny, so funny that Izaya mused he should be laughing. Instead though, he had gotten up, eaten only a couple mouthfuls of breakfast before his stomach protested that it didn't want food today, just as it hadn't wanted food yesterday either. He supposed that had just been a sign the food needed replacing, why else wouldn't he feel like eating? No. It was funny, really it was. Izaya hadn't laughed though. No. No. He had just carried on with his day as if there was nothing different about it, as if there were no plans with another man to meet at the station today, as if there were no stirrings of emotion in his gut, prompting the nausea that meant he couldn't force food down anymore. Just a normal day, that's all it was. And yet—<p>

Izaya had spent longer showering that he did normally, as if he were preparing for a trip to one of those little bars and not out to meet and toy with his little plaything for the afternoon. When he had moved to get dressed, his regular attire had remained folded on the end of the bed where he had left it the night before, in favour of clothes that were much showier, much more appropriate for two supposed lovers setting up a date. Ha, it was funny. So funny. He needed to stop thinking like Nakura and remember that this was a game, that he was meeting this man in order to destroy him. Nakura loved Shinozuka, no, no not Izaya. The informant instead turned to the other clothes that he owned, but in truth, rarely wore. Well, he may as well dress the part of Nakura if he was going all out. The jeans – black and skin tight - that he had worn to the club, that sweaty and seedy place, were brought back out – though after the events of that night, Izaya had made sure Namie washed them several times. The jacket and the tight t-shirt that he normally wore had been replaced with a gypsy styled shirt in slate grey, a necklace, a handful of little twisted fabric wrist bands and one of those little black cardigans on top, he didn't want to get cold now after all; winters in the city could be deathly freezing, just like the cockles of his heart.

All of this had taken a mere hour of Izaya's time, and it was still early, still hours before he would need to leave the loft in order to meet his toy face to face. What did he look like? Izaya was curious. If the other man was hideous to look at then that solved all of Izaya's problems, because then these stirrings in him would go away as soon as he saw that; love was built on looks, after all. Even if the other man was attractive, why that solved matters too, it would mean that Izaya could make the most of it while he was there, get a good lay out of Shinozuka before sending him crumbling to pieces. In fact, that would be even more fun, and even better way to end the game and crown him the victor.

The informant had settled at his desk, switching on his computer in an attempt to get some work that he had let hang around for so long done before he left for the station. Shiki would be happy to wait for the raven to dig up the information, but Izaya's other clients weren't always so generous. It wasn't that he was scared of what they could do, because more than once he had sent thugs back to their masters with numerous cuts and slashes, their tails between their legs. Izaya had one of those signs stamped to his forehead, one that clearly told everyone that he was not to be crossed on pain of death. No. No. it was his reputation that he had to uphold. Izaya had to be the best information broker in the city; he had to have the best Intel, the fastest and the most reliable. It was the only way he could get away with charging such extortionate prices and keep his place at the top of the food-chain. In the world of shadows, it was a dog eat dog world. He knew all that, and yet he couldn't get his head into the figures and the photos and the juicy little details that he had been asked to dig up. It was all there, on the screen, and yet his eyes wouldn't focus, his mind was off somewhere else, contemplating everything but what it was meant to be. Izaya reached for the little black rimmed glasses that he had left on his desk the night before, tossed on top of a stack of papers that he should be taking better care of, hoping that when he slipped them on, they would somehow steady the words on the screen scribbling up and down.

He was wrong, and so he simply continued in the same way, taking two steps forward in his work and one step back. This game was going to be the death of him, unless he took it down first.

* * *

><p>Izaya was early. The clock on the station wall told him it would be at least another five or ten minutes before Shinozuka would arrive, and he'd already been waiting for half an hour.<p>

He had tried to work, he really had, but the distraction within his own mind had only gotten worse as the morning had gone on, shifting into early afternoon. It hadn't helped with he had received an email from the man who he would be meeting later, confirming the time and the place. That had just made Izaya's attention span shorter even more, and make this work of his seem dull and commonplace in comparison to his game. Sure, he had managed to dig up all of the information that he had been asked for, save for one of two little details that would have been no trouble normally, but this had taken more time than usual, irritating him to no end. Eventually, he had kicked his chair away and shut the computer down, deciding that he may as well leave now, catch an earlier train or stop for food on the way. Work could come later, once he had made his next move, once he had seen Shinozuka and ended this foolish fascination with him. That was it, right, it was. It was just because he had yet to see what this Shinozuka looked like, had yet to see his reaction, that was all. Izaya decided that maybe playing games was more fun face to face, and that hey, hey, at least he had learnt from this mistake. He wouldn't make it again, no, no he wouldn't.

So he had left early, almost forgetting to grab the red scarf he had tossed over one of the sofas in the loft as he left and caught one of the earlier trains, arriving at Ikebukuro Station with an hour to spare. Izaya hadn't waited around though, he'd headed off to some sushi bar or another and tried to eat, knowing that it would come back to bite him later. He'd still only managed to eat half of the tuna platter that he ordered and even less of the drink that he bought to go with it. It was just as well money wasn't a concern to him with the amount that had cost and the little he had eaten of it. That had killed some time, half an hour of it, and so he had merely sloped back to the station, intent on watching his delicious humans at work as he waited for his to arrive. It was a pastime that Izaya had indulged in for quite some time, but that always amused him, always calmed him down. It was always a great love of his to watch them tick, to watch them go about their lives as if nobody was watching. Always, always, always.

Time seemed to crawl for those last few minutes, until the clock station rang out with the time, announcing that it was two o'clock and that Shinozuka should be here. Izaya turned his attention to the station itself, to the streets around it. He wasn't sure who he was looking for. All he knew of Shinozuka was that he was tall and that didn't really help to narrow things down. The red scarf remained wrapped around his neck, like a beacon, beckoning his prey in toward his own death. Red, dead, red, dead. He was getting irate now, irritated that it was the arranged time and that Shinozuka wasn't here on the dot. Perhaps it was just because he had been waiting so long, perhaps it was something more, Izaya didn't really have time to dwell on the matter, because at that precise moment, a rubbish bin crashed into the wall just beside his head.

"Ah, Shizu-chan," Izaya greeted on turning his head to spot the brute, his voice in a dim monotone, eyes not really focusing on the dumb oaf, still trying to see around him for another figure that could be looking for him. He flicked himself off of the wall that he had been sat on, just outside of the station, leaping down to land on his feet with all the grace of an alley cat. His lips tugged up into a confident smirk of disdain that he wasn't really feeling and waved his hands at Shizuo like one might to a stray cat. "As lovely as it is to see you, I don't have time to play today. Run along and play with someone else for a change, go on, shoo!"

The blonde was being nothing but a nuisance and ruining Izaya's plans. He doubted that Shinozuka would want to hang around once he saw Shizuo Heiwajima stood here, tossing bins and whatnot at innocent little people like himself. Really, what sort of uncivilised oaf does that these days? It was irritating to say the least, that of all the days when Izaya could have done without running into Shizuo, karma seemed to want to fuck with him that little bit and plant Shizuo's route right past Izaya. He made a mental note to kill whatever client Tom had obviously sent Shizuo to beat up for that.

"Really, must you stand there? You're ruining the view, Shizzy. I've already told you that I don't have time to play with you today," Izaya even managed to chuckle, as if he wasn't feeling annoyance at the monster's arrival at all, as if this were merely all part of this magical game of his. He supposed if he told himself that enough it would be true.

Shizuo merely answered with another roar of rage, in something that sounded vaguely like curse words or Izaya's name. Izaya watched as the fool turned, closing his hands around the nearest object he could find in order to fling it back at Izaya. The object turned out to be a metal pole, attached to which was a sign informing people of the way to certain areas of Ikebukuro. Izaya watched as the muscles in Shizuo's back rippled as he tugged it from the cement in the pavement, and the concentration that lined his face as he did so. Izaya watched as he turned, tossing the object in his direction. Izaya watching, dodging out of the way too late and feeling the edge of the sign catch him as his body sprung out of its path; too late and too slow. Izaya could feel the cut that had caught under his shirt as he had moved, and he could feel the ripple of blood creeping down his skin like the tickling touch of a lover's tongue. It had been a while since Shizuo had actually caught him in their little fights, Shizuo must have improved his aim then because hey, hey, Izaya was the best and there was no way his reactions would have slowed over a silly little thing like wondering where Shinozuka was and if he had arrived and left already.

Mentally cursing, Izaya scrabble to reach the flick knife he had shoved into the pocket of his jeans, watching as Shizuo turned to reach for something else, anything else that he could toss at Izaya. When his hands closed around the wooden bench nailed to the street, Izaya decided that it was high time he got out of there before the shallow cut to his torso turned into something worse or before they ruined the station too much. He still needed it of course; trains were faster than walking back to Shinjuku. He – no, no Nakura – would have to apologise to Shinozuka later. He was sure that Shinozuka would understand him not hanging around if he said that Shizuo Heiwajima had shown up and started throwing things around, any sane person would flee when that happened. The man was a monster, and nobody wanted to be around a monster. Shinozuka would understand, because Nakura would make him understand. With that plan in mind, Izaya shot one last little gibe at Shizuo, smiled and chuckled, and turned on his heel to run away from the station, intent on leading the brute on a merry little chase indeed.

And what a chase it turned out to be. The two twisted through streets and parks and across main roads, past hotels and cafes and bars and manga shops and he had even offered a cheery little wave to Kyohei Kadota and his group of miscreants as they had passed. He led the two of them through empty areas and crowded ones, watching as people dived out of the way, screaming Shizuo's name in horror. Served him right, interrupting his day, tossing nasty things at him. They were twisting and running and Izaya could feel the dizzying lack of food taking its toll, eating away at the stores of energy he didn't have. He wasn't sure how long it took to lose Shizuo in the maze of dirty little alleys in the dodgy end of Ikebukuro, but Izaya managed it, and not a moment too soon; the cut on his torso where that fucking signpost was starting to take its toll. It wasn't big, and it wasn't deep, but the figures of his shirt kept catching on it, and it stung to no end. There's only so long one can run with a bleeding cut to their side without keeling over, and Izaya knew that he needed patching up. He couldn't go home, that would take too long and no doubt Shizuo was still prowling around the station on the dim-witted hope that Izaya would return to be 'crushed'. Ha. Ha. What an idiot. What a fucking _idiot_. Bastard! The monster had ruined everything, had ruined Izaya's chance to make his move and crush these stupid curious feelings for his newest plaything. Shizuo Heiwajima just added another reason to the list in Izaya's mind of why he needed to die. Shinra was out of the question too, because he could already hear the stupid man's quips ringing in his ears. Oh, Shizuo got you this time did he? Man, you must be getting old! Hey, Celty did this thing the other day, and this and that and blah, blah fucking blah. That left only one option, and Izaya was already gritting his teeth just thinking about it. Shiki. He had to go to Shiki. The man was situated only a short distance from where Izaya knew himself to be, and he had dealt with worse injuries than this for Izaya in the past.

The informant cursed, and turned on his heel again to head into his past.


	22. Chapter 22: Shiki's Den

**Author's Note: **The two of these chapters combined makes over 5,000 words. Oops.

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><p>Izaya was well known in Shiki's den. He came here often enough, and most of them recognised him from the days long gone when he had lived here too. It meant that now he was simply waved in without a second thought, it meant that no one stopped to kick him out or question why he was there. No one ever questioned why Izaya came to visit, he just did, and that was that. It was just a rule, whenever Izaya came to call, Shiki would see him, no matter the day or the time or if he had other guests. What Izaya wanted here, Izaya usually got.<p>

But it didn't mean that he liked coming here. It was filled with memories, and the angry ghosts of his past that didn't seem to want to go away. It was filled with bad reminders of what could have been and almost was. It was filled with Shiki, and that was what pissed Izaya off the most. Because whenever he was around the man, there was something, something, _something _that Izaya felt that he didn't like. He knew what it was, but it didn't mean that he had to like it; it didn't mean he had to accept it. After what Shiki had done, he didn't want to feel anything but hate for the man. He didn't want to feel this bitter end of love for the man who had been his first everything and his undoing.

"Izaya," came the confident curl of his name when he stepped foot into the room. Nothing more needed to be said for Izaya to realise that this maybe was a bad idea; maybe he should have gone to Shinra after all. That blabbering buffoon would surely be better than this. "You're bleeding,"

Offering a scoff and a cocky smirk back that he still wasn't really feeling as if that was all the confirmation Shiki needed, Izaya stepped forward into the room a little further. He stumbled slightly, but made no move to acknowledge that, and thankfully Shiki didn't either. Izaya could feel the man's eyes on him as he walked closer, towards the sofa in which Shiki sat, sprawled out across it. He could feel the glances of the two men that stood behind him, those dimwit bodyguards that Izaya had known since he had first come to the city. He still didn't know their names; he still didn't care enough about them to find out. He eyed them back just as disdainfully as they were eyeing him up, and when Izaya finally arrived at the sofa, stood before them, Shiki seemed to pick up on the animosity in his eyes.

"Out, both of you." Was all the command that they needed, and Shiki didn't even bother to glance at them as they left. He observed the look on Izaya's face, fighting back the urge to smirk again at the younger man, hell, the _boy _stood in front of him with that look on his face.

"Well, sit down, and take off your shirt. The least I can do is stop you bleeding to death in my home." He spoke at last, pushing himself up from the sofa where he had been slouched, heading over to a desk in the corner of the room. Izaya guessed he had a handful of first aid things in there. When you lived in the way Shiki did, it was necessary; Izaya had seen that for himself. There was a silence that hung in the air after Shiki spoke, that brief defiance in Izaya before he complied with the direction of the older man, ha, just like the old days.

"Oh, how courteous of you, but if you were so eager to see me naked again all you had to do was pick up the phone," Izaya replied with a laugh that almost sounded true, waving his hand in the air as if it was no matter, as if it didn't matter either which way that he was here. He shrugged off the cardigan that he had pulled on earlier, thankful that it had at least escaped the flow of blood, dropping it onto the arm of the sofa for later. His shirt however was not as lucky, and had stained with the deep colouring of his blood, clinging to the cut itself. He curled his fingers around the bottom of the fabric, reaching up to pull it over his head, ignoring the stinging that came when he pulled it away from his body where it had clung like a second skin to the gash on his side. That was tossed to the arm of the chair too, he'd have to wear it home after all, but it would be thrown out as soon as he got there. A shame, he'd always liked that shirt, really he had. The cut looked worse than Izaya had thought it was now that it was out in the open air. It was longer, stretching from the front of his stomach and down his side to his back. It was shallow, and he supposed that was a good thing, but it stung, stung, stung on the open air, and from the look of things, it hadn't stopped bleeding just yet.

Shiki had arrived back by now, scarred face as serious as ever. Izaya was used to that, he was. Izaya had fallen for that, he had. There had been something enigmatic in that stoic exterior, something that had appealed to the twisted man within him, even when he had been young. Ha, ha, that really got him far, didn't it?

"You look thin," the older man commented as he sat back down onto the sofa, dropping bandages and what looked like disinfectant spray onto the cushion next to him. His fingers closed around one of Izaya's wrists, tugging him down onto his lap, despite Izaya's brief struggle. Those cool fingers probed at his stomach, his chest, briefly, and then they were gone. "I can feel your ribs. Have you even been eating?"

Izaya batted a hand, swatting at air where Shiki's hand had been just a few moments before. It was like some whirlwind of the past that had been dug up, and he hated it. Visiting Shiki had never been like this before, it had never been this fucking emotional, and Izaya knew that Shinozuka and his stupid, fucking, questions were to blame. He had dragged up Izaya's past, and Izaya – no, no Nakura – like the fool he was, had let him dig it up; hell, no, he'd not just let him, he'd even handed him the shovel and offered a hand to dig it up too. He was stupid, he was— This game was getting old. It was going in ways that it wasn't supposed to be, including leading Izaya to remember just how he felt about Shiki, and his past.

"I didn't come here for a lecture," The informant snapped, and a scowl crinkled at his brow. Gone was the cheery nature he tried to exude normally. Gone were the smirk and the quirky little mannerisms. Gone, and replaced with the truth of his emotions, that raw human inside that had someone oozed its way out. Izaya let it, he would let it out for tonight, but then tomorrow it would be gone, and he would be back to himself. He would, and then Shinozuka was going down. He wasn't in love, it wasn't love, it wasn't. "I came here because I needed bandaging up. So are you gonna do it or do I have to do it myself?"

"Hn," Shiki hummed in reply, grabbing at the cloth he had grabbed earlier, and moving to dab at the gash on Izaya's side. He hissed in response, though whether at the pain that shot up his torso or at Shiki's very existence he neither knew nor particularly cared.

"We both know you were never any good at that," Shiki piped up again after a pause. By now he had cleaned the blood away from the cut, sprayed it with disinfectant that had made Izaya wriggle in an attempt to get the hell away from his touch, and was setting about wrapping the bandages around his middle. "You haven't changed that much. I can tell you're still no good at it,"

The task didn't take long, and soon Shiki's hands had left Izaya's middle and the cool air was no longer stinging at his cut. This time, when Izaya struggled his way away from Shiki's hold and lap, the man let him. Izaya said nothing. It was better that way. He said nothing because he knew that in this irritated, pathetic state he couldn't predict what he was going to say. He had to watch his mouth, not for Shiki's sake, but his own. Who knew what sort of lies his mouth would try and spout out in reply to these past memories and emotions beating down on him. This was all Shinozuka's fault. Izaya had been fine until he had come along. Idiot, bastard, monster—

"I'll get you another shirt, too,"

Izaya looked up at that, still scowling, still like a tom cat, threatened and cornered. Shiki had gotten up again, when Izaya had been busy staring at some point in the room and contemplating just what the hell was going on. He didn't know. He didn't. It was Shinozuka's fault, and yet— why did he feel so dirty with Shiki's hands on him? Why did it feel so wrong when years ago it had felt nothing but right? The older man was holding a shirt in one hand, and though it was crumpled in his grip, Izaya could recognise the deep red of the button up shirt straight away.

"I'm not wearing that," He said, simply, biting out the words and grabbing at his old shirt, the one now stained with the scarlet colour of his dried blood. Shiki paused where he was stood, an eyebrow cocked at the younger man as he pulled the dirty shirt on as quickly as his injury would allow. Izaya turned to fix the other man with a gaze that promised death, and yet— "And Akabayashi wouldn't want me wearing it either, Shiki,"

"You really haven't changed, Izaya," Shiki commented with another smirk, and a laugh, which did nothing more than send Izaya's temper bubbling. This was all Shinozuka's fault, all this anger and all this hate and all this hurt, it was his fault, it was his. Izaya was going to make sure that Shinozuka knew what this felt like. "It's been eight years and you're still just as stubborn as ever. Akabayashi is—"

"Of course you would leap to defend him. How human of you, how deliciously human!" Izaya scoffed, Izaya laughed, and the sound was so pathetic that even he heard it, even he wanted to mock himself for it. "You never defended me like that, did you?"

"Izaya—" There was a warning in Shiki's tone, a hint of concern and lingering emotion, as if he still cared for Izaya in some way, even after all this time. Izaya chose to ignore it. He didn't care, because he didn't feel anything for Shiki, no, no, he didn't, he hated the man, hated him. He had just come here because he needed to be fixed up, that was all, and he was the closest, that was all, that was all.

"No, no. Of course you never did," Izaya continued, as if Shiki hadn't spoken, as if the other man hadn't taken steps towards him again, still holding the red shirt in his fist. "Because I was always screwing up, I wasn't perfect like Akabayashi. Because I was just some little street kid with dirty clothes,"

"Izaya," There was that voice again, Shiki's, in its hard tone that Izaya knew so well. He'd heard it before, he'd heard it when he had been young and he had been a wreck and had broken down on Shiki's shoulder, crying about how fucked up his life was, how much he had screwed up. That had been the first time that Izaya had slept with Shiki, that night, still crying and still so fucked up, and the older man had just—

What was this? This word vomit. Izaya didn't like it. He didn't. This was worse than when he spoke to Shinozuka. It was. Shinozuka was to blame. Izaya didn't love him. He didn't, and yet— and yet he knew speaking to the other man, flirting with him, he knew that would make it go away. Fuck Shinozuka, fuck him. Izaya hated him, he hated everything about him. What a horrible idea meeting had been, what bastard had suggested that?

"You know how you feel about him? I used to think that way about you, did you know that?" Izaya questioned, whirling around with his arms outstretched, laughing as if this was the best joke he'd ever heard. His head was throbbing. It was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing.

"I used to worship the ground you walked on, and then— fuck, I told you that, didn't I? Yeah, yeah, I think I did. And do you remember what you did?" He was laughing again, and Shiki was saying nothing. He had dropped the red shirt, and it remained on the floor, crumpled and creased. "You told me you weren't allowed a lover, because they might get hurt. And I got that, I did, until you and Akabayashi decided that you were going to break that rule. Do you know how fucked up it is to walk in on the man you love fucking his subordinate?"

"Izaya, that's not what—" Shiki broke in, frowning now, one hand outstretched as if he was going to grab at Izaya's shirt, to shake some sense into the raving informant. "That was a long time ago,"

Izaya laughed again, he did, and this time it radiated from the very depths of his stomach. He didn't love this man, he didn't, no, no, he never did. This was Shinozuka's fault. He was dead, so dead, dead, dead, dead. The raven haired man turned on his heel, snatching up the cardigan, intent on leaving this shithole while he could, before Shiki decided he wanted to keep Izaya here until he had gotten his point across. He didn't care. He didn't. He was halfway to the door when—

"What's his name?"

What the fuck was he on about? What the—

"Come on, Izaya," Shiki chided, chuckling again. He had stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling at Izaya in such a way that meant so much more than it let on. "You've let the real you come out of hiding. Someone must be the cause of it. What's his name?"

Izaya didn't answer. Shiki laughed again, and though Izaya turned his head away, he could hear the other man head back across the room towards the sofa, and settle himself down. He could feel the throbbing of the gash in his side as he stood. He wanted out of here now, he wanted to be in the cool air, amid his humans, on the way home to his loft and his work and _fuck_ how he wanted to get back to work right now and forget these fucking feelings and his past and all of this bullshit. Shiki seemed to accept that Izaya wasn't going to tell him that, because he paused, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, watching the boy he had loved stand in the doorway between the past and the present, hovering. Izaya was afraid to let go of his past, Shiki knew that, he had always known that. If there was someone out there that had prompted such a change in the informant, then Shiki was all for pushing him forward in that direction. Then it would make the guilt in his own soul vanish from all those years ago.

"Do you love him?"

Izaya didn't answer that either, but as he opened the door and stormed out of the building, his mind supplied the answer for him.

_Yes._

_Yes he did._

But it didn't mean he was going to admit to it.


	23. Chapter 23: Silly, Charming, Beautiful

**Author's Note: **EEP! I got an offer from one of the universities I applied for today! So, so happy! This chapter is something just a little different, but it was fun to write. I took a bit of creative licence with Shiki's character here, there isn't much about him in the anime and I've yet to read the light novels etc so this is just me basing a chapter on my head-canons, lol. Hope you like it!

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><p>In the position he was in, Shiki wasn't allowed to be soft. When one deals with the monsters of the underworld in the city, being emotional, being soft and compliant is not something that one can indulge in. If he wasn't tough, intimidating, then some jackass would come along and try and take his place. He couldn't have those kids getting cocky; he couldn't have them getting too big for their little boots, and so Shiki always kept up an air of fear to keep those power hungry thugs at bay. It seemed to be working, for there had been no challenges to him despite his distrust of many of his subordinates. Shiki was tough, but it didn't mean that he had morphed into an asshole like so many of the people in his world often did. He was polite, he was, and he still treated his guests with the greatest of politeness, and refrained from judging them on anything until he knew the facts, until he knew their side of the story. That was just Shiki, and he had come to develop this nature of his from years of living in the underbelly of the city, hidden in the shadows.<p>

Izaya would always be different though, even now.

Shiki still remembered the day that he had found him, cut and cold and wet in some dodgy back alley a couple of streets away from where he had been with the gang then. Just a scrawny boy of fifteen as he had later found out, even then there had been something captivating about Izaya. He was pale, and he was bleeding, drenched to the skin from the rain outside and skinny enough to Shiki had been able to make out ribs under the papery skin; but his hair had been the jet black of the dead of night, and his eyes so bright despite it all that Shiki hadn't helped but find something entrancing about him from the very get go. There was something there, something that reminded him of himself when he had first stepped into the underworld and seen what sort of horrors lived there. And when Izaya had replied to Shiki's question of his name with 'the king of Sheba', the old man had known that he had found someone to take under his wing. Even a man like him couldn't leave a boy so obviously in need of a home out in the cold streets, and the mercy of who knew what sort of mad men that roamed Ikebukuro at night. Shiki still remembered the days that followed him bringing Izaya back to stay with them. There was something entirely endearing about the boy's mouth – the sharp little quips at Shiki's expense, the way he never sugar-coated his emotions or his thoughts – and Shiki found himself enchanted with the teenage boy. Days then turned to weeks, and soon enough the rips had disappeared from sight when Shiki looked at Izaya's – who had finally admitted that he wasn't the King of Sheba - stomach, and he had lost the sickly pale tinge to his skin, and dare Shiki say it, he even smiled every now and then. Weeks turned to a month, and there was no doubt that Izaya had come to feel at home here, comfortable. He was always eager to hear about Shiki's work, always delighted when the older man brought him expensive sushi or let him sit in the room when Shiki had 'guests' to visit. There was no doubt that by now Shiki had developed feelings of love for the raven headed teenager. He always did things that he knew would please the growing boy, things that would help him to grow up in just the right way, things that would make him want to stay. There was some possessive streak in Shiki, some protective urge that he held, and he couldn't deny that Izaya had grown into his features and was flourishing into a beautiful creature of the night. It was strangely satisfying to watch Izaya grow, for him to experience new things one step at a time with Shiki at his side. And Shiki hadn't been blind; he could see the way that Izaya looked at him too, akin to some kind of love or worship or another. Shiki could still remember the look that had crossed Izaya's face when he had stumbled across one of Shiki's old jackets one day, a silly black thing with a white fur trim that he had worn when he was younger, before he had realised it was silly. The boy had worn it ever since, proclaiming that it would keep him warm in the winter, though Shiki knew that wasn't why he wore it. Shiki knew that wasn't the reason why Izaya still wore that jacket, even eight years on. He knew Izaya would never admit to that, he always had been stubborn, and Shiki knew he always would be.

And then there had been that night, about a year after Izaya had arrived in the city and Shiki had taken him in. He had been out with some of his subordinates, dealing with certain issues that had arisen which needed his personal attention. Someone had of course been left back at the HQ lest anything happen to Izaya, but they had not been in the room with him, and when Shiki appeared, the little raven had been curled up in that jacket with the fur trim with eyes red-rimmed and sobs shaking a form that once again looked tiny. He seemed embarrassed when Shiki arrived into the room, tried to get up, to leave, though the notion that he could escape in a place like this was silly. He was free to leave at any time, but Shiki knew as well as Izaya that he was just as entranced, that he didn't want to leave either. And so Shiki had taken the shivering boy into his arms and told him that it was okay to be weak once in a while, that he was still growing up, that it was all okay. And so Izaya had cried, though his throat had been so hoarse that Shiki had only been able to pick out snippets about Izaya's mother and father and him leaving home. And then, and then, and then they went to bed, and Izaya let Shiki take away the last lingering out his teenage years, and transform him into the beautiful young man he was to become. Shiki would never forget a moment of that, he would never forget the whimpers of his name from Izaya's mouth, the unsure kisses that he gave Shiki in return, the feel of Izaya curling into him when it was over. Things had taken a shift then. The two had never defined their relationship, it was never a given thing, but there was some unspoken message, some connection the two knew they had; though Shiki had always known that Izaya's feelings went deeper than his did. Shiki had always known that whatever they had would never be a long term thing. Shiki had always known that his feelings were not really as romantic as Izaya would wish them to be, and that was just proven even more so when the raven told him how he felt one night over sushi, with flushed cheeks and a dipped head. Shiki had smiled, ruffled the boy's hair and told him that he wasn't allowed to have a lover that was serious, because who knew what kind of people would be after him to get to Shiki? Izaya had nodded, made a lousy excuse that Shiki had seen right through, and gone to bed. Shiki had stayed out of the bedroom that night, especially when he had heard those same choking tears from the room. And yet— in a purely selfish way he had never attempted to stop him from falling for him, because when the boy looked at him with that look, when his body looked so delightful spread out in the moonlight, when the sound of his cries were so— how could Shiki deny himself that? It was wrong, it was selfish, but it wasn't as if he didn't care for Izaya at all. No. No. Izaya would always be different, he would always be special, and Shiki would always care for him, even now when his heart had claimed another, because there was just something about Izaya that drew people in.

Shiki wasn't allowed to be soft. He had to be tough, and it was bad enough he was so lenient with Izaya, really it was, and when Akabayashi had come along that had gotten ridiculous. Yet there is no way to stop the attraction of like-minded souls, and there was no doubt that was what the other man was to Shiki. They were of a similar age, and Akabayashi had already gone through all the terrors and problems of youth that Izaya had yet to experience, and he had mellowed and grown wise because of it. There was always a feeling of distrust that Shiki had held for the other man, and yet there was a spark, a different kind of spark than he had with Izaya, whom he loved more dearly as a son; ha, as messed up as it could be to sleep with your son, to partake in such dirty things with him, and yet— Shiki hadn't been in control of the way things had happened after that. He knew that Izaya would grow up soon, he would grow out of his fascination with him and leave, and then there was Akabayashi with all his worldly wisdom and trust and respect. Shiki had been drawn to him the way that two true lovers really were.

And while he had fallen out of love with the charming boy from the streets who had hissed at Shiki when they first met, swiped a knife at the older man when he approached and then replied so cheekily, there would always be that part of Shiki that loved Izaya, because who couldn't when he was so delightfully endearing? He still cared for the boy, still didn't want to see him lonely, and he still felt guilty because he knew that but for him and his growing affection for Akabayashi then Izaya would have remained that extraordinary, innocent boy with the skin as pale as the moon and hair as dark as a raven's eye. He felt guilty, because Izaya was the way he was because of Shiki's screw up. He hadn't handled it right, he had led him on, and he knew that, he did, and he had spent the last eight years trying to make up for it and make it all go away. Now there was someone else that Izaya had found, and he hoped this would mean the boy could move on from the angry ghosts of their past, because really, it stung when Izaya came and said such things as he had done earlier. To suggest that Shiki had never loved him— it just wasn't true, it wasn't.

Izaya always had been stubborn, and he knew he always would be. Shiki wished the unknown man all the best of luck, because loving Izaya wasn't nearly as easy as it seemed, but fuck, it was worth it in the end. Shiki could vouch for that. This man would have to put up one hell of a fight to get this Izaya to comply, but from what Shiki could tell, he had already cracked the surface and tapped into the real Izaya Orihara that lay somewhere, buried beneath years of living behind a mask.

No, no, he really did wish this man all the luck in the world. For Izaya's sake. It was what he needed. It was. He needed to move on. Izaya had love in him the likes of which Shiki doubted even Izaya could imagine. Silly boy, he always would be too stubborn to accept it, wouldn't he?

Silly boy. Silly, charming,_ beautiful_ boy.


	24. Chapter 24: The Truth

**Author's Note: **I've been spoiling you with long chapters. This one is a little shorter than the last few. I'm still really in my Izaya mood, so I've got lots of creativity for him and not poor Shizu-chan here. Welp. Sorry guys. ._.

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><p>Shizuo didn't like feeling nervous. He didn't. It was a horrible feeling that bubbled in his stomach in a way that made him feel nauseous. It made his head spin as he walked, back slouched and hands shoved into the pockets of black slacks. A frown crinkled at his brow, a scowl tugging down at his mouth; why had he thought that meeting Nakura was a good idea?<p>

The morning had been fairly uneventful for a change, and in a place like Ikebukuro that was certainly saying something. The sun had risen to waft in golden kisses to land on his face and rouse him into wakefulness. He had woken early, allowing him time to primp his hair and check that the dye wasn't wearing out, to eat a modest breakfast and drink his milk before Tom arrived to knock on his door. The first client had been a little rat, and Shizuo had tossed him clear across the sheet when the asshole had insulted Kasuka through an offhand comment he had made to Shizuo.

Tom had merely looked on in amusement at the scene, as long as he got his money and Shizuo didn't get too carried away, he had no problem with the blonde hitting a bit of sense into them all, they needed it. Then again, Shizuo needed it too, or so Tom noted. The blonde had asked to leave work early that day, and Tom hadn't minded, but had found it amusing when Shizuo had looked away with a pinch of red across his nose when Tom had asked why. Apparently there was an old friend of his coming into town and Shizuo just had to see him. Old friend, Tom's ass, he wasn't blind; but he had told Shizuo there was no problem with him leaving to meet this 'friend', and they'd just moved on to the next few clients of the morning before he had to leave.

But then Shizuo's phone had buzzed with the little alarm he had set, telling him that he had ten minutes to get to the station in order to meet Nakura off of the train. That had been when the nerves had set in, though he tried to deal with them like he did with all of his problems, but simply using brute force to crush them down. Unfortunately, it didn't work, and they only seemed to get worse with every step that he took towards the station. It didn't seem to Shizuo to be that long before he could see the station rising up on the street in front of him, and he could feel the tingle in his palms, the shortening of his breath, all the while on edge for meeting this man.

What if Nakura didn't show up? What if Shizuo didn't find him physically attractive when he had been so drawn in by his words and his nature? That would be painful for the both of them, soul mates of the mind but not of the eyes. He knew that looks weren't important, and yet he knew that they did count for something. He could have a relationship with someone he wasn't attracted to. Ha. How amusing, Shizuo didn't even know what he was attracted to in a man. He didn't have a type, not really. Did that matter? Or was that a good thing? What if Nakura didn't fit this type of his, the type that no, no, he didn't have? Shizuo didn't want that to happen, but what if he found Nakura attractive, and the other man was repulsed by him. He was Shizuo Heiwajima, and what would Nakura think of that? Shizuo was worried that he would approach the man, and for him to take off screaming and never to return. Shizuo wasn't in love with Nakura, but he didn't want the other man to leave before he had a chance to understand just what it was he felt for him. Was it love after all? Yes, no, he didn't know. He needed more time to figure it out, more time with Nakura before he could decide if he did. Was all love this confusing? They made it look so easy in the movies, in books and in other people that Shizuo saw in the street. Why couldn't he have that effortless confidence in knowing his feelings that well? Why, why, why—

_Why the hell was the flea here?_

Shizuo had never been able to control himself when he ran into Izaya Orihara. There had just been a boiling pot of emotion that spilled over and turned Shizuo into some kind of monster whenever the man was around. There had always been animosity between them, ever since they met, that was just the way it went, that was just— Shizuo knew how fucked up the louse could be, and he couldn't ever like someone like that, he couldn't ever like someone who played with people like pawns for fun. Izaya Orihara was dead, dead, dead.

His hands curled around the nearest object they could grasp, even Shizuo didn't really know what it was, and hurled it at the rat where he sat. He didn't even appear to have noticed that Shizuo was there, and the blonde couldn't help but smirk, couldn't help but hope that this was his chance to kill the bug once and for all. Annoyingly, the object – a rubbish bin he now saw – crashed not into Izaya, but a little way away from the asshole's head. Shizuo needed to brush up on his aim for next time. Izaya had started speaking then, but Shizuo couldn't hear behind the haze of rage that had settled into his mind, clouding all else except the voice inside his head telling him to kill, kill, kill Izaya Orihara once and all, once and all, once and all. People had started to run now, they were yelling and fleeing and shouting about Heiwajima and Orihara's latest fight, telling people to get out of the way. Others had gathered at a distance they deemed safe, observing the fight with animated interest, a couple of them filming it on mobile phones to show off to their friends later. It wasn't everyday this happened after all, and the two of them were as much of an urban legend as the headless rider was.

And then the fucking louse had _moved_, he had flicked himself off of the wall, and his hair had tossed in the wind and his eyes had roamed over Shizuo and he had flicked out his knife and said more of those words that Shizuo couldn't hear no matter how clearly Izaya was speaking them. Shizuo was seeing red, literally. Red, red, red. Why the fuck was he wearing red? Red, dead, red, dead, red, dead, red, dead. Shizuo hadn't been able to control himself anymore then, he didn't understand, and what people don't understand they fear; Shizuo had always dealt with fear with brute force again, and the only solution seemed to be to kill Izaya while he was still here. Red, red. Nakura had said he would be wearing a scarf in red so that Shizuo could find him. Was it a scarf Izaya wore? Or was it just some twisted coincidence, some twisted way for karma to screw with him next. He had worn a red shirt in high school, right? It didn't mean that— red, red, _red_. Things moved in a blur after that. There had been more words said, more things thrown, and Shizuo still didn't understand, still tried to see through his cloud of rage and hate and concentrate. Izaya turned and fled, and Shizuo's anger fell back onto its reflexes and did what it did best, what it was used to doing, and gave chase. They twisted through streets and alleys and past people in areas that were busy and areas that were crowded. Izaya wasn't as fast as he normally was, and that boded well for Shizuo, except he wasn't as fast as he normally was either, because somewhere along the way he had stopped intending to kill the flea but trying to see that flash of red again.

It wasn't until Izaya turned the corner, offering a laugh and a wave at Shizuo that his body turned in such a way that Shizuo could see it; the red scarf wrapped around Izaya's neck. Red, red—

Dead. Izaya Orihara vanished into the underworld, into the alley that Shizuo knew led to the hotel district and that Shiki bastard's place, and he just stopped. Dead.

There was no way for him to describe what that moment felt like, there was nothing to— Nakura had been Izaya all along? Then this had all been a game, this had all be just another one of those fucked up things the asshole found hilarious. He had been doing this, planning this all along. Shizuo was angry, he was pissed beyond words, and yet— and yet there was some gnawing inside, something inside his stomach that seemed to have dropped. He felt sick, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to kill something, someone, anyone. This was all so fucking—

Bullshit. Bullshit.

Izaya had planned this. The damn flea had fucking planned this, and now he was probably laughing at Shizuo in the alleyway now; and yet— and yet he couldn't bring himself to step forward in pursuit. Izaya was Nakura after all, and how could Shizuo hurt someone that he had been falling in love with?

He turned on his heel instead, and ran. He just ran and ran and ran and ran, because running from his feelings had always been what kept him safe, had always been—

The first thing Shizuo did when he returned home was to take the computer that had started all of this and send it crashing to the floor. The second thing he did was the make sure it was in pieces and beyond being able to work ever again. The third thing he did was send things crashing across his apartment, finding the smashing and the breaking to be a soothing factor to the torrent of emotions whirling inside him. This was all such—bullshit, bullshit. It all made so much sense, it did, it did. Nakura lived in Shinjuku, Nakura had twin sisters, Nakura had black hair, Nakura had—Nakura had—

Nakura had never existed. He wasn't real. Shizuo Heiwajima had fallen in love with a man that didn't exist. That was the story of his life, really, wasn't it? Ha, how fucking ironic. How fucking wonderful, how—

There just wasn't anyone in the world left to love a monster like him.

Why had he ever believed otherwise?

He had been a fool, he had been-

Love wasn't meant to be this painful, was it?


	25. Chapter 25: Monsters

**Author's Note: **I always seem to write longer chapters when I write for Izaya. I'm not sure if it's a good thing how easily I can obviously put myself in Izaya's point of view orz. There's a quote from The Great Gatsby in here somewhere, if you spot it I will provide you with Izaya's sushi and my eternal love.

Guess who got tickets for the Harry Potter set tour? Kiwi did~! WAH SO EXCITED.

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><p>It was cold when Izaya left Shiki's den. At some point when he had been inside the clouds had closed over the sun and the temperature had dropped. At some point it had started to sprinkle with rain, as if the sky were crying where Izaya could not. What a ridiculous notion that he could cry. He didn't do that anymore. That was left in the old days, those pathetically human days when he had been ruled by fucking naivety and a foolish notion of love. Love didn't exist. It was a monster, it just was. He could feel the chill snatching its cold fingers under the flimsy shirt as he walked, probing at his skin and peeking under the bandage to raise goose bumps on his pale flesh. The blood from his cut had dried since he had been inside, and now the fabric was stiff, and the very fact that he was wearing it made him uncomfortable. He didn't like feeling dirty, clean, clean, clean and healthy, that was what Izaya liked. The weather only worsened as he walked, the cold got icier and the shower of rain turned to hard, heavy droplets as if the sky was now sobbing hysterically. By the time Izaya arrived back at his loft in Shinjuku after catching the train there, he was soaked to the skin.<p>

The dirty shirt was the first to go. He grasped at the bottom and stripped it over his head in the same way as he had at Shiki's. He observed it for a moment, eyes lingering on the stain on the side where he had bled. It was horrible and dirty and it went straight in the bin in the kitchen, but he knew that it was better than if he had worn that red shirt back home. Wearing clothes that belonged to his first lover's new fuck? How messed up was that. Red. Red. Why was that colour haunting him? Red like the scarf around his neck that he tossed to the sofa too, red like his blood. The injury to the side of his torso did nothing to help, especially now that the bandage had gotten damp from being under his shirt, soaked, all the way home. It stung as he moved, and he bit back a wince through gritted teeth. The dumb brute would pay for this. Izaya would see to it personally that a knife found its way into Shizuo's neck or lodge somewhere between his ribcage where Izaya wondered if a heart even lived. Dumb brute, barely any better than some rabid animal, Izaya would make him pay for this fucking discomfort, he would. It wasn't often that Izaya even got in the way of Shizuo's anger. There was a reason he could go head to head with the blonde on a regular basis. He was quick, and his reflexes were honed to perfection from years of living in the underworld, but he had been off today, even he could see that. He guessed Shinozuka had been to blame for that, hey, hey, just another thing that Izaya could blame on the man. He was pissed with Shizuo more that he hadn't been able to meet the man he had taken such an interest in. Hey, hey, just another reason for Izaya to hate the oaf. Dumb brute, stupid, stupid, monster. So unrefined, so uncivilised.

Once he had pulled off the jeans he had squeezed into, not an easy task when they were skin tight to begin with and now had been soaked right through, he exchanged them for the boxer shorts that he normally slept in, pulling out a vest to leave for later if it got cold. It was better to air the bandage and not cover it with anything. He didn't want to have to call Shinra to bandage it again later, because there was no way he was going back to Shiki and admitting that he was right, that he still couldn't manage on his own and that he hadn't changed after all. Izaya cursed the notion that him being unable to bandage his own wounds had such a stupid effect as this. It was warmer in his apartment, but he could still feel a slight nip of cold wash over his bare upper body as he settled into the tall chair at his desk. It was getting dark outside now, and lights were beginning to flicker on through the city that Izaya could see from his window. It was a view that he always admired, that always calmed him down whenever the workload piled up too high or he was bored with it.

His computer hummed to life when he nudged the on button with one of his toes, and it wasn't long before the log in screen had booted up and Izaya was typing in his password. He was the only one who lived here, but it didn't mean that he didn't take precautions and password protect all of his computer and its files. Who knew what that wretch Namie could get up to while he was gone if he left her here? He checked through a couple of emails from his contacts, reporting in on some intel he'd asked for a couple of days ago, and deleting the emails from those other pathetic humans he'd been stringing along in his games. Suddenly the idea of playing with them didn't seem so appealing anymore. When had this game with Shinozuka taken such a serious turn? Izaya had started this as a silly game, and yet if the feelings being dragged to light, kicking and screaming inside him were anything to go by, this was quickly turning into something out of Izaya's control. He didn't like being out of control, it scared him. The last time he had been out of control of his actions, his emotions, had been when he had been living with Shiki, and that had gone just swimmingly well, hadn't it? This game was leading him to ruin, or it certainly would do if Izaya didn't put an end to it now, if he didn't get back in control, and yet he couldn't bring himself to stop it completely. It was like some twisted domino effect, one piece had fallen, and now all of the others were crumbling down.

Once all of that had been dealt with, he opened up a new email, adding in Shinozuka's name in the addressee box at the top. What would even be an acceptable reason for him not showing up? Because Izaya had seen no one approach him before Shizuo had put an end to his plans for the day, and so it was likely that Shinozuka had been waiting around for a Nakura that had never showed, so hey, hey, the least Izaya could do was apologise for that, right? Just how did one say that they had to skip out early because Shizuo Heiwajima had tried to kill them though?

'_I hope Shino-chan isn't angry with me…  
>Eh~ they had a big hold up on the train, can you believe it that?<br>I hope you can forgive me~  
>Maybe we can rearrange another date?<br>I'm curious about that face of yours!  
>X.'<em>

Izaya watched as it sent, leaning back in his chair once the little message announcing it had been sent popped up on his screen, letting out a whoosh of air that he had sucked in when he had started typing. He knew from what the other man had told him in the past that he would be home from work by now, and Izaya gathered that he would have had the afternoon off to meet Nakura – no, no _him_ – anyway. Besides, with Shinozuka receiving emails to his phone, then he shouldn't have to wait too long for a reply. He turned once again to look out of the window while he waited, losing himself in watching the cars and trains and flashing lights outside. They were all so busy, all so unaware of themselves and each other in the enchanted metropolitan twilight. In this world, this lonely city, there were only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired. Right now Izaya felt nothing but tired, and the longer he was left waiting for a reply did nothing to help that. His stomach was growling, protesting that he hadn't eaten since lunch time the previous day, but the nausea in his gut pushed away any thought of eating. So what if Shiki said he looked skinny. That meant nothing, that meant jack shit. He wasn't thin, he was eating, he just wasn't—

Izaya didn't like waiting. He was impatient and expected things to be done whenever he wanted or needed them to be done. He didn't like waiting, and so the fact that he managed to last an hour without receiving a reply from Shinozuka before he opened up the email again to reply was saying something about him indeed. He hated waiting, hated it, hated it, hated it.

'_Shino-chan, are you hiding from me?  
>I said I was sorry – did I upset you?<br>I really am sorry, Shino~  
>Don't you want to ask me anymore questions?<br>X.'_

Izaya didn't like being ignored. It was even worse than waiting. The little profile on the dating site had told Izaya that Shinozuka had read the email he had sent, and the first email too, and still the other man was not replying. There was that feeling of irritation bubbling under his skin again. He didn't like it. It made him feel dirty, it made him feel more unclean than when he had worn his bloodied shirt, it made his skin crawl more than when Shiki had touched him earlier. It wasn't Shiki's place, it wasn't— Izaya didn't like this. He didn't like these feelings. He had felt them before. This need to be acknowledged, this desire for the other person to just talk to them, to just see that he existed. It made him weak; it was pathetic, stupid, and idiotic that he was getting so worked up over Shinozuka not replying. He had told himself not to go there again, this wasn't love, this wasn't love, this wasn't—

Had Shinozuka seen who Izaya – no, no Nakura – really was and just fled without a word? He was sure that he hadn't looked like himself that much today, at least to people who didn't see him a lot or know him well. Well if that were the case then that was just wonderful wasn't it? That was the game over and done with before Izaya had a chance to end it his way, to end it the way it was supposed to end. Ha, ha. How was it supposed to end? He didn't know. This game was leading to ruin, though whether that was his or Shinozuka's he had lost sight of someway back now. Had Shinozuka really been hurt by Izaya – no, no Nakura – standing him up? He was sure that was likely with the other man's sensitivity to things like this. He had been nervous when Izaya or Nakura or whoever the hell he was had brought up meeting, and so maybe Nakura or Izaya or whoever the hell it was standing him up really had hurt him. But he had apologised, and he had meant it, because he had wanted to—

What if Shinozuka had gone out again, back to that bar in Shinjuku to meet another man like the one from before? What if Shinozuka had gone back home with another man all because Nakura – no, no Izaya – had stood him up? That was something that Izaya would do if he was hurt, ha, ha, he'd done it before after Shiki, hadn't he? He'd brought some gang member back to the headquarters before he'd left the next day, he'd brought him back and let the man take him in the bed that had belonged to him and to Shiki. That was what Izaya would do, but no, no Shinozuka wasn't like that, he wasn't. Shinozuka was everything Izaya wasn't. he was pure and he was innocent and he had that hopelessly wrong view of love that just wasn't true. Shinozuka was kind and he was— and Nakura, no, Izaya, no, Nakura, no Nazaya, no Izakura, no, no, _he_ had tried to twist that, to turn it into something dark and dirty and wrong. Why had he even tried to do that? To turn Shinozuka into a twisted bitter ruin of a human like himself? Ha. Ha. Ha—

'You Have Mail~!'

The sound that Izaya had been waiting for only annoyed Izaya even more, as did the mocking letter icon with the flashing outline. Hey, hey, so he replied now did he? Just leave Izaya waiting; just leave him hanging, hey, hey. Treat them mean to keep them keen, hey, hey, that was Izaya's game; Shinozuka wasn't allowed to steal that. That was against the rules, wasn't it? This game didn't even have rules, but Shinozuka was breaking them all. He was a monster, a monster, a hopelessly endearing, idiotically romantic monster. Izaya's form shot forward almost immediately, eagerly, though his brain hissed at him for being an idiot, to click open the email that had arrived in his inbox, bearing Shinozuka's name.

Though when the email opened, and his eyes scanned the words, he almost wished he had never prompted a reply from the other man's mouth.  
><em><br>'This isn't working.  
>Don't email me again.'<em>

Izaya knew too well what the tug in his chest meant. Izaya knew too well why he seemed to have forgotten the ability to breath. Izaya knew too well why his fingers felt numb and why his eyes couldn't seem to focus on the words on the screen anymore. It was foolish, it was crazy, it was utterly fucking stupid—

But Izaya knew all too well the symptoms of a breaking heart.

Fuck Shinozuka, and fuck love too. They were both monsters.

Monsters.

_Monsters_.


	26. Chapter 26: What if?

**Author's Note: **Your reviews make me smile so much! Oh my gosh, I love seeing all your reactions, it's so much fun. (lol, I'm just as bad as Izaya, aren't I?) Anyway, despite the fact that the storyline for this still isn't even finished being planned yet, I've already written the last paragraph for the final chapter. I do things all back to front, welp. Enjoy the ~angsty~ chapter to follow~.

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><p>Anger, frenzy, rage, fury, distress; following the fallout of the revelation of Nakura's real face Shizuo had felt them all. He was still feeling them, unable to shake the feelings, they just bubbled over and over inside of him ready to explode. The initial anger had worn away, and now the facts had really set in, eating away inside like moths upon on old scarves. Shizuo was angry, and yet he could feel the nagging feelings and emotions that he normally tried to crush fighting their way to the surface. He was angry with Izaya fucking Orihara, the flea, the bug, the louse, the soon-to-be-dead information scumbag. He had toyed with him, messing with Shizuo's life and his emotions as if they were nothing more than strings of a puppet that he thought fun to tangle. He had pulled out secrets and stories from Shizuo's past that even he told himself weren't true and he had revealed little in return, just because he could. How much of what he – no, no <em>Nakura<em> – had told Shizuo was true? That story about the man who had hurt him, the one who had fucked him around, messed him up so, how much of that was true? Ha, bullshit! All of it, Izaya did nothing but lie. No of it was true, it couldn't be, why the hell He had played Shizuo, and Shizuo had let him. He had been a fool, a damn fool, to be taken in by the notion that someone could like someone like him, he had, he had, he had. Shizuo wasn't sure how Izaya had found his profile, but he knew what sort of things the bastard was capable of and gave it little thought. It had all been a game, some fucked up game, to mess with his head, as if running around in his Ikebukuro wasn't enough. Dead, dead, dead. He wanted the man dead.

And yet it wasn't just anger he felt. Shizuo knew what it was like to be sad, he knew what it was like because he felt that now, laced in with the rage that had settled in his mind like an unwanted guest. There was a melancholy cloud that had drifted over him, and he wasn't sure how he was meant to deal with it. He felt betrayed, he did, he really did. Nakura had— before Shizuo had known who he was, Nakura had charmed him, Nakura had captured everything that Shizuo wanted, Nakura had made him laugh and Nakura had been the one to boost his confidence, to teach him that men out there would pay attention to him if he just paid attention to them. Nakura had done all of that, and then he had betrayed him but just not existing. He had vanished from Shizuo's world, and he hated that. He hated Izaya for taking Nakura away from him, because Shizuo missed Nakura. He missed having someone to email and to joke with and someone who made him feel embarrassed even without being in the same room. Izaya had just fucked all of that up. Bastard, bastard, bastard. Of all the people in Japan he could have chosen to fuck with, why did it have to be Shizuo and why did it have to be this way?

These feelings were so conflicting. Was it possible to hate Izaya and not Nakura? Was it possible to care about Nakura and not Izaya. Shizuo guessed so, because he was pretty sure that's what this was like. He wanted Izaya dead, he was pissed beyond belief at him, and yet— No. Nakura wasn't Izaya; he was just some guy that Izaya had made up. Pretty fucking sad in Shizuo's mind that the only man who he'd fallen for had been made up by the guy he wanted dead, and who he was pretty sure wanted him dead in return. Just his luck, just his lousy, rotten, fucking luck, wasn't it?

"Ah, Shizuo-" cried a booming voice through Shizuo's thoughts. The blonde stopped, blinked, and looked up from where he had been glaring at the pavement under his feet as he walked. Tom was a few paces behind him, apparently having sensed the murderous air around his employee as soon as they had met that day, deciding it was safer to keep his distance while Shizuo was in this mood. The two of them had done with clients for the day, and so Shizuo had simply started walking, his feet leading him to the restaurant district. He and Tom usually went for dinner after they were done with their work for the day, and then would head their separate ways until tomorrow. Apparently they had arrived in the area without Shizuo really noticing, the glaring at the sidewalk had proved to be a much bigger time killer than he'd ever realised.

"You eat sushi!" came the voice again, in a thick, deep accented voice. Simon stood beaming in front of Shizuo, who had gone from frowning at the floor to frowning at Simon now. The Russian was holding a fistful of coupons in one hand, and the other was pointing at the little sushi restaurant just behind as if Shizuo had never been there before. "It will turn frown, upside down!"

Shizuo heard Tom laugh from behind him as the other man caught up, reassuring Simon that they had been heading here anyway and he could stop his sales pitch now. Still frowning, Shizuo disappeared into the restaurant without another world, frowning, frowning. Nakura had liked sushi; ootoro had been his favourite, apparently, though Shizuo had confessed to him that he'd never had the chance to try it before. The flea liked sushi too; Shizuo had run into the bug too often coming out of this very sushi shop. The notions made that anger flare up in Shizuo, though he ducked his head and tried to calm it down. The louse, that bastard, wasn't going to ruin Shizuo's life any more than normal. He refused to be some player in the twisted asshole's game; he wouldn't let Izaya use him, no, not again, not like he had with Nakura. Nakura. Nakura. Nakura.

Tom joined him shortly after, and though Shizuo had been keeping his eyes away from everything and on the menu, he could see the look on his employer's face. It was one of those looks that told Shizuo he knew something was up, and that it was obvious to him and to everyone. That just added to the irritation scorching Shizuo's skin. Thankfully though, his boss didn't seem to want to probe on that, instead settling for discussing the clients they would need to deal with tomorrow and how he felt today had gone. Shizuo had lost it more than normal, and Tom had needed to step in at one point to get him to ease up on one guy when his anger had peaked and he had been unable to see anything except kill, kill, kill. At some point, Shizuo's eyes had met with the dish of 'ootoro' on the menu, at which point he had violently thrust it along the table and ordered whatever Tom had ordered so he didn't need to look at it again. Too many bad reminders, too many angry ghosts lingering around things like that now. Fuck Izaya, fuck it and fuck it. Nakura, where was he? Dead, non-existent, fuck. Shizuo hated it, he wanted it back, and he wanted nothing more than to forget this ever happened. Didn't he know that might have to happen when he signed up for the site? He had known he could just stop whenever he wanted. And he wanted to right now. And yet— yet—

"So are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to find this friend of yours and ask him myself?" Tom broke in through Shizuo's thoughts again, and there was a hint of both amusement and concern lacing each word that left the dark haired man's mouth. The blonde turned to look at him, but said nothing more than a grouchy 'hn' in reply. He was still frowning, still trying to quell the fire under his skin and in his heart and everywhere around him. He didn't want to answer that, didn't want to know how Tom had known that was what was bothering him because he didn't want to be that transparent.

"It's not good to keep things bottled up, Shizuo," the other man said again, and Shizuo noticed the irony in the words he had picked. Hadn't he thought that about Nakura not telling people things before? Yeah, yeah, that had been before, when Nakura had been real and honest and dear to Shizuo himself. Who cared what the flea did with his feelings? Shizuo didn't, just so long as they didn't involve him. He didn't care. He didn't care, he didn't—

The arrival of their food shut Tom up for a while, allowing Shizuo to pick at his food without having to reply. He wasn't really hungry, at least not for sushi, if anything he felt sick, and his stomach was churning and gurgling; but for the sake of needing the fuel to keep him going, he forced down enough to satisfy what he would normally eat for dinner, though that did nothing to help the feeling in his stomach. He hated it. He didn't like it, and worse, Tom was giving him that look again, that fucking look.

"Shizuo," sighed Tom, leaning back in the seat and bringing the drink he had ordered with his meal up to his mouth for a sip. "Just because I'm a guy, it doesn't mean that you can't talk to me when some jerk breaks your heart. I mean— it won't be awkward if that's what you-"

"Shut up," Shizuo muttered, his voice low and deadly and promising death to numerous people who had annoyed him during his life. There was a pause, in which Tom stared at his face, trying to pick apart what was going on. He knew that Shizuo was mostly alone, that he had only a handful of people he could count on to trust, and that he would never let it go if he didn't try and help Shizuo when something was so clearly bothering his friend. The blonde still didn't speak, just grunted and shoved himself to his feet, knocking the table as he did so and sending it skidding a little bit closer to Tom. "I just need to accept the fact it didn't work out."

And with that, he left the little building despite Simon's enthusiastic words prompting Shizuo to stay longer and enjoy more food. Tom sighed again, watching the retreating black and white clothed figure leave and head down the street outside. It was getting dark out, and he guessed that Shizuo would probably just go home and sleep. Tom couldn't remember seeing Shizuo like this, he couldn't remember seeing the man express passionate emotions other than anger, but no, no, he had seen the haunting loneliness in Shizuo's eyes earlier, like some kicked puppy, left abandoned out in the rain.

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><p>It was dark when Shizuo got home, and his apartment complex was lit up with dim and flickering lighting when he arrived. He had spent the past hour or so wondering the streets, something that he usually did after work every day. It was calming, and given the past day or so that he had been through, he needed that. He had turned on his phone at some point, and found that Nakura, Izaya, whoever the hell, had sent even more messages while it had been switched off. Meaningless crap like what he'd had for lunch and how <em>'Shinozuka' <em>just had to try it too, or wondering if he was busy with work and that was why he wasn't replying. Shizuo didn't bother replying, but promptly turned his phone back off again. Why was the louse still doing this? Shizuo didn't understand, he didn't get it at all. Surely this game couldn't be fun for him anymore, not now that Shizuo had stopped playing, not now that he knew what was going on. So why was Izaya – Nakura – still sending him messages?

Shizuo grumbled to himself as he came up the stairs to his floor, and the frown only intensified when he noticed his neighbour, a little dainty old woman, stood outside of his door with a parcel in her hands. She beamed on seeing him arrive, shuffling down the corridor towards him, cooing his name.

"Heiwajima!" she laughed, and despite her age, she sounded as youthful as someone thirty years younger. Shizuo had always been fond of her, despite never really speaking to her. She quickly thrust the little brown box into his hands before he could protest.

"Someone left this for you earlier. The poor man knocked on my door and said that he got no answer at your door and that his boss had asked him to make sure it was delivered today. So I told him I'd give it to you later. But the silly men spelled your name wrong of course! I didn't tell him that though, I didn't want to embarrass him or his boss!" Here the elderly woman laughed again, shuffling past Shizuo towards her own place. "Well, have a nice evening, Heiwajima!"

Shizuo returned the notion, and balanced the parcel on his hip while he fished in his pocket for his door key. He didn't glance down at the box until he had gotten into his apartment and kicked off his shoes. Shizuo didn't understand. She had said that someone had delivered it for his boss, so clearly Izaya himself had not come here, and yet— and yet how the hell had he found out where he lived? Well, well, if he knew that Shizuo was Shinozuka, had known all along, then he guessed it wasn't going to be too hard. There was a little note taped to the top in curling writing that Shizuo had to admit was lovely. He didn't understand, he didn't— why was he trying to get Shizuo to keep playing? This wasn't like the flea; this wasn't like him at all.

'_Not talking to you kills me, but trying to talk to you and being ignored hurts even more. I said I was sorry Shinozuka; can you really not forgive me? Not even if I give you nice presents like this? – Nakura x.'_

Shizuo tore open the box without another thought, without really letting the words process in his brain, because that would just cause all sorts of unneeded feelings to complicate things for him. There was a little bento box inside, wrapped with clear foil to stop the contents moving, in which was settled a nest of white rice, nestled in which was the most expensive, delightful looking sushi that Shizuo could say he had ever seen. Another little note was inside the box too, in the same curling script and just perched on top of the box.

'_Well, you said you'd never tried this before. I bought the most expensive stuff I could find. Enjoy it Shino, and maybe you can stop being mad long enough to tell me what you thought? X.'_

Shizuo set the box down on the table, pulling out the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and lighting one up. God, he needed that nicotine fix right about now. The smoke danced around his head as he exhaled, bringing with it a new cloud of questions to Shizuo's mind. When the louse acted like this, Shizuo couldn't help but wonder if maybe what he had thought before was wrong.

What if Izaya didn't know who Shinozuka really was? What if, what if, what if?


	27. Chapter 27: No No No

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the lack of an update last night! I went to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie that came out yesterday with a friend, so I didn't get a chance to update~. So I found a few people fangirling over this story on Tumblr the other day. Oh my gosh, you guys are adorable. (● ∀ )

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><p><em>'This isn't working.<br>Don't email me again.'_

No. No. No.

Shinozuka wasn't getting out of this that easily. This was Izaya's game, not his. This was Izaya's fucking game, and Shinozuka wasn't leaving until Izaya said he could, this game wasn't ending until Izaya said it was over. Shinozuka had no right to call the shots like that. Izaya could do as he damn well pleased. No. No. No. Shinozuka couldn't just come in and screw things up like he had, he couldn't just come in and make such delightful moves in this game and then leave. It didn't work like that, it broke the rules, and if there was one thing that Izaya hated more, it was when people broke his rules.

No. No. No.

That wasn't it at all though, really, was it? The reason that Izaya was so worked up, the reason that— it wasn't because of the game anymore, was it? Somewhere along the lines he had gotten tangled up in his role and it had taken him crashing down with him, as if it was a shoelace knotted together that he had tripped over. Tripped, fallen, and crashed down like an idiot to smack his face on the pavement of love. That was the real reason, wasn't it? Or so the nagging voice at the back of his head kept saying, over and over and over. Izaya wanted to slit the damn thing's neck. He wasn't beating himself up and spiralling out of his own control because his game was being broken, it was because somewhere along the lines this game had turned from that into something much more serious. It had shifted, distorted like some kind of hideous monster into something that Izaya didn't recognise nor particularly like. Somewhere along the line he had slipped, turned just as badly as one of his dear, devoted humans and lost the heart he wasn't supposed to have to someone without a face, to a man he'd never met, to his own fucking plaything at that. Shinozuka was the answer to it all; Shinozuka was the question to everything. That was why Izaya was so upset, so utterly pissed at the man.

Emotions and feelings, who really needed them? Izaya had dealt without them for years now, ever since the death of his childhood, ever since Shiki. He had gotten on with his life with only gleeful feelings and the love of his humans. That was all that had mattered, and then he had started up this new game. An idiotic notion he realised now, considering the turn that this twisted game had taken. Then Shinozuka had come along, and then— and then—

Izaya had been with a person once who he had given everything to. He was always put first and Izaya was always put last. He had owned Izaya's whole heart while Izaya had only owned half of his. Shinozuka had come along with his stupid fucking innocence and his naïve, hopeless notion of love and somehow that had done something to Izaya, something that he both craved and hated at the same time. It had started with Izaya trying to change him, to influence that sickly sweet human being, and yet in actuality, wasn't it Izaya who had been morphed and shifted and bent out of shape? Someone had come along again who had put him up at the top of their list, who had started to feel something for him, and Izaya had learnt how to feel all over again. Izaya was used to denying things. If he told himself something enough, then eventually he would start to believe it. He had tried to do that when he had felt himself tumbling off of the edge, when he had fell stirrings of emotion for the other man, but it had been fruitless, hadn't it? Izaya had started to crumble. He had allowed some kind of attraction to spring up between him and Shinozuka, despite never having met. He had tried to deny that too, and that had been just as successful as the last attempt. And now—

Did Shinozuka not realise what it was like to feel this way? So conflicted and so torn between yourself. It was as if Izaya was fighting three faces, three identities that he just couldn't escape. One was the face that he presented to everyone, his public face, the mask that he wore; that cheery and unaffected asshole persona that everyone in Ikebukuro knew him to be. The second was Nakura, the character that he had created and used so many times in the past; this was a gentler man, one that was so wholly different from his public face that it was crazy, this was a man who had fallen one and truly for Shinozuka Heikichi. The third was the old him, the real Izaya, fighting tooth and nail to get back out in the open. Izaya had shoved him back into the depths of his mind when he had left Shiki's all those years ago. The real him was needy, and the real him hadn't had the chance to grow up properly. It craved freedom, and yet it needed to have someone there to help it along the way.

Izaya couldn't just let Shinozuka stir up these feelings in him and then walk away as if nothing had happened. There had been something there, hadn't there? There had been some kind of feeling that the other man had felt, and he wasn't going to let Shinozuka leave without finding that out. People always think that the most painful thing is losing the one you love in your life. The truth is, the most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much.

It was ridiculous, so fucking ridiculous. Who would have ever thought that someone could reduce the great Izaya Orihara to a primal creature of need and desperation and raw emotion? Who would have ever thought he had it in himself to love? Izaya hadn't even realised it was possible for him. Not anymore. He didn't know whether to laugh and mock himself or to be glad that there was someone out there again, someone other than Shiki. He decided that a mixture of both would be the best option, but couldn't really summon up the enthusiasm for either. He was weak, he was some pathetic jerk now that someone really needed to exploit but that no one ever would. No one except him would see this weak state. In fact maybe even he wouldn't. It was stupid, stupid, he was stupid, stupid, stupidly in lo—

"Look, I don't care how late it is," Izaya snapped down the phone. He had settled himself in his office chair, curling up into it like a cat or a small child looking for some kind of comfort. The day was nearly over, and he had lost count of how long had passed since Shinozuka's email had arrived in his inbox. He hadn't gotten dressed all day, lounging around in his sleepwear. What was the point? His humans were boring, boring— no, no, he didn't deserve to be around them now when he was so weak and hopeless and disgustingly emotional. The voice on the other end of the phone quickly shut up when the caught the tone of Izaya's words, and the information broker couldn't help but smirk as he noted that he hadn't lost his touch in dealing with idiots like this.

"But if you want to get your payment next week, you'll dig up as much information as you can on Shinozuka Heikichi," He continued, and without waiting for a reply, promptly hung up the phone. There was no point in wasting niceties on people like him, he wasn't even a pawn on Izaya's board, he wasn't a player in the grand scheme of things, and he was just once of Izaya's contacts, just some bum that Izaya knew could dig up some information for a measly few coins to feed his family for the week. Pathetic, really, it was almost laughable. Ha. Ha. With that done, he tossed the mobile phone to his desk, not caring when it landed with a loud clatter against the glass surface. It was a long shot that anything would come up, he had guessed straight away that Shinozuka Heikichi was just a screen name, but how stupid would he have to be to not at least try to check him out? Maybe he was wrong, maybe it was his name and Izaya's guess had just been off. No biggie, it was easier for him in the long run, it was. It would mean that he could track the man down faster, could someone bring him back into the game or back into his—

Izaya got a call less than an hour later, to find that his contact had turned up nothing. It didn't surprise him, but the news pissed him off nonetheless. _This isn't working. Don't email me again. This isn't working. Don't email me again. This isn't working. Don't email me again._ The words rang in his head over and over as he sat, curling in the arms of his chair, louder and louder. It shouldn't bother him so much, it shouldn't, but all of these conflicting emotions and feelings made it hard for Izaya to understand what he felt and what he didn't. He loved Shinozuka, didn't he? Maybe, maybe not, maybe he was just curious after all. You can't heal without answers, Izaya had heard that before, and he needed them now more than ever. A few moments was all it took for him to decide that he would have to take a much more active – and illegal – part in his search for information around this man.

His computer booted up easily enough, and the internet connected just as quickly. Izaya loaded up the dating website, and set about scrolling through whatever he could that would give any information about the man who had enchanted him so. There was nothing that he could find on the surface, annoyingly, so Izaya had to pull deeper, digging under that surface to pluck at the underbelly and see what lay underneath. He knew that if he could find the IP address of Shinozuka, then he could find his address too, it was just getting around all of those nitty gritty little problems. It was only the law enforcement that was supposed to be able to do what Izaya wanted to do, and normally even they needed some sort of warrant to track people's addresses through their IP. But hey, hey, Izaya had always been above the law, always had and always would be. It didn't take long, really, it didn't. Izaya was good at what he did. He was the best, he was, the best in all of Ikebukuro, in all of Shinjuku, in the entire city. It didn't take long for Izaya to track down the apartment number that Shinozuka Heikichi lived in, and devise his next plan.

Who needed a court order when you were the great Izaya Orihara?

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><p>The address had rung a bell for Izaya, as if he had heard it somewhere before, though he had no idea where that might have been. If he hadn't been so desperate to just make some sort of contact with Shinozuka and end this conflict within himself then maybe, just maybe he would have taken the time to check why the place sounded so familiar. But he didn't have time for that, because every second that he spent was another second that Shinozuka was moving away from him, another second further away from his wonderful game and from Nakura and Izaya and—<p>

The box of ootoro had been ordered specially for Shinozuka, and Izaya had packaged it carefully, had written a little note to the man to apologise, again. He didn't understand what the hell had caused this complete turn from Shinozuka, all he knew was that he didn't want it, and that he wanted things to go back to how they were. He wanted to go back to playing that game, he wanted to go back and lose himself in Nakura all over again and pretend none of this hurt and whatever the fuck else had come to light. He didn't like it. He knew that he felt something for Shinozuka, but he wasn't going to admit it, not yet. If he admitted it, then that was game over, it was the end, and he would come crashing down once and for all to the same level as his humans and he couldn't have that now could he?

One of his contacts had been sent to drop it off, because gods forbid he should go himself. What if Shinozuka was there? That wasn't something that he was ready to deal with, not after what had happened. He had been all for meeting before that was true, but that had been when he had just been curious, when he hadn't been falling in—

The ping of an email at his computer came late in the night; hours after when Izaya knew Shinozuka would be home from work and would have received the little parcel he sent to his door. He clicked on the inbox straight away, but couldn't help but hesitate when Shinozuka's name showed up in the inbox, right at the top of the pile, where he ought to be. His hand moved the little pointing arrow of the mouse to hover over the email, but it was several minutes later that he clicked it. Silly, stupid, idiotic Orihara, what the hell had gotten over him? It was an email, just a silly, stupid email from Shinozuka, probably just to say that he was—

'_I don't know how the hell you got my address,  
>but don't you fucking dare do something like that again.<br>Who the hell do you think you are? Who does that?  
><em>_I don't feel the same way I felt about you, so get lost.  
>Maybe it's because you're not even the same person anymore.<br>Why did I ever think you were for real?  
>Stay the hell out of my life, Nak.'<em>

—sorry. No. No. _No._

It hurt to breathe and to think and to just exist. Izaya didn't quite know what to make of that, of all the replies he had been expecting, that had not been it. There was a moment of impulse, a moment of rash raw emotion that caused him to hit the reply button while he remembered how to breathe and how to see and feel and live. What was going on, what was, what was, what was—?

'_What if I were to tell you that I loved you?  
>Would that change nothing, Heikichi?<br>x.'_

Izaya watched the message send, celebrating the high. Fuck Shinozuka, yeah, yeah, who the hell did Shino-chan think he was? Accusing his feelings and him of changing, of not being real, fuck it had started to acknowledge his feelings, he had, and he was getting there slowly, one step at a time. It hadn't been easy, and then this had happened. Fuck. _Fuck._ This was why he had built those walls, because love was a fucking monster, and this was just the proof. This was proof that Izaya had been right all along.

The anger flared in him then. He swore, and he cursed and he shut down the computer with a kick to the tower. Fuck it all. He didn't need this. He was better than this. He wasn't in love, no, no, he wasn't. Who could love an asshole like Shinozuka? No. No. He needed to go out, to that club, to get drunk and get fucked. That would solve it all. He had tried to chase this man, had tried to move on, to take a step into something better than a fucked up game, and this had happened. Fuck love. It was a monster. Fuck Shinozuka. He was a monster too.

Just for this one night Izaya would not think about him. He would have fun, and laugh again. And enjoy every minute. He would let some guy fuck him senseless, because who needed to wait around for some man he'd never met? He would drink and dance and everything else. Tomorrow he would deal with the hangover, and go and confront that fucking Shinozuka Heikichi, face to face.

Forcing a smirk that he didn't feel, Izaya grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door.


	28. Chapter 28: Everything Was Different

**Author's Note: **Once again this is up later than normal; I spent most of the afternoon writing another fic which I posted a bit earlier. It's Shizaya, so you should all go and read it and let me know what you think? It's on my profile, so just click through and enjoy~.

This chapter is dedicated to '**fireexitturnright**' for being the one who keeps me in line by reminding me to not get too excited and properly proof my fics... Welp. I bet you can even spot a few in here. BUH I'M SORRY. (/ω＼)

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><p>'<em>What if I were to tell you that I loved you?<br>Would that change nothing, Heikichi?'_

Nothing, nothing, everything, nothing, nothing, that's what it would change. In all honesty, Shizuo didn't know. He didn't. Not anymore. Things were different now, weren't they? If Nakura had still been Nakura, then that would have made all the difference; that would have been the step forward that Shizuo had been wishing for his entire life, the thing that had been craving. No hidden meanings, just the knowledge that someone loved him and he was pretty sure loved too. It would have been easy then, he could have moved forward again, they both could have, they both could have taken another step together, and he could learn what love really was. But it was all wrong now. It was. Love wasn't as he knew it to be, and Nakura wasn't Nakura any more. Everything had been turned upside down, on its head, like a vending machine he'd tossed across the city.

Izaya had messed everything up, and he was still messing things up, even when Shizuo had sent him that email, telling him to stay the fuck out of his life, to stop playing, to stop doing whatever it was he was doing that was fucking with Shizuo's emotions and his feelings so much. It was as if he had taken some kind of pledge to ruin as much of Shizuo's life as he possibly could, it was if he didn't want Shizuo to be happy, to just be able to live without any trouble. Izaya just had to take Nakura away from Shizuo, didn't he? The bastard, the flea, the damn fucking louse, it was his fault, everything was always his fault. Izaya had once asked if Shizuo could believe in that last 1%, that not everything bad that happened was to do with him. How could Shizuo believe in that now? He didn't know what to believe in anymore.

There were two possible options here that Shizuo could see, just two, nice and simple. The first was that Izaya knew full well who Shinozuka really was, and that he was intentionally screwing with him. How else had he known where to send that package after all? He hadn't posted his address anywhere where Nakura could have seen it. The second was that Izaya didn't know that Shinozuka was Shizuo, but just assumed he was playing with some random man on the other end. That wasn't much better, because Shizuo doubted that if it had been someone else that they could deal with it as well as he had. He didn't see a third option. The bastard that he knew couldn't possibly be capable of love, he couldn't, he couldn't, could he? Hadn't he once thought that he couldn't love? Hadn't he once thought that he wasn't allowed to love, that there was no one out there for him to love? He was blinded by hatred for the man, and so maybe it had been under his nose all along and he had been unwilling to see that actually, Izaya Orihara knew how to feel emotion after all.

No. No. It was a ridiculous notion that he was even considering something like that. Izaya ruined lives, he came strolling in and fucked them up so heartlessly and so brilliantly that he couldn't possibly be able to feel love for anyone or anything. And yet the more he tried to squash the thoughts, the more they echoed in his head, the more the email rang over and over again, the more questions he had.

Lighting another cigarette, Shizuo settled himself in the windowsill of his apartment, cracking it open to let the smoke go out. The landlord hadn't minded his smoking habit, but it was out of politeness for any future tenants that Shizuo wanted to keep it relatively smoke free. It was getting late, but not so late that the streets were empty of people. The street lights had just about flickered on and once again the day was giving way to the twilight hours, the city blooming in this mid-point of night and day. The little box that had been waiting for him when he got home earlier sat on the desk where his computer had once been. He'd cleared away the mess that had been left in the aftermath of his fit of rage, and the components of the machine now lay outside, waiting for collection to go to the dump. It was still open, the little, harmless box, and the food and note inside of it were untouched, though Shizuo had to admit that the louse had really gone all out and got some expensive looking stuff. He stared at it as he smoked, hard, as if that would somehow provide all of the answers that he was looking for, the ones that really mattered.

What did he really know? Everything was different now. Everything.

Shizuo didn't know if Izaya knew who he was, he didn't know if Izaya knew that he was playing with Shizuo. Shizuo was beginning to think that maybe the bastard didn't know it was him, that maybe he just assumed it was some guy living in Ikebukuro, just a normal guy who had taken a shine to him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He wasn't sure what it meant. Izaya had a nasty habit of lying to Shizuo; telling tale tales to wind the other man up, but that didn't mean that Izaya lied to everyone. What if he were telling the truth about his feelings, what if someone really had made the information broker fall in love? What if he had done that? There had been snippets of fact that Shizuo knew to be true of Izaya's life in those emails. He knew the bastard had sisters, twins, he knew that he liked sushi, expensive stuff at that, all of those small things that he had overlooked to start with. If they were true, then what about the big things? What about that man he had mentioned? Shizuo could only think of one or two people that Izaya had ever spent enough time with to feel like that about. What about the way he felt for Shinozuka? What if Izaya Orihara had unintentionally fallen in love with him? What then? What did that even mean?

He knew just how stubborn the asshole could be. He knew that if he had really set his mind to making Shinozuka forgive him then he would go to the most extreme lengths to do so. Shizuo knew that much. That was why Shizuo had sent that email back; because he didn't want to play this game anymore, because he was telling Izaya that it was over, that he didn't want him or Nakura in his life anymore. It didn't matter if Izaya loved him, or Shinozuka, or whoever it was he assumed he was talking with. That was the flea's problem, not his. Izaya lied and he cheated and he ruined everything; it was about time he got some payback for that after everything he had done in his lifetime, and not just to Shizuo either. How many bloodstains on the pavement had been Izaya's fault? How many lives had been wrecked because of him and his smug, sickly little smirk?

The smirk, Shizuo hated that smirk, the one that promised nothing but lewd comments and twisted up Izaya's mouth in ways just as twisted as his mind. He could see it, that mouth, that tongue, he could feel it, everywhere and on him, trailing over miles of skin and down, down, down his chest towards—

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

What the fuck was he thinking?

No. No. _No_.

Shizuo stubbed out the cigarette long before it was near the end, unable to steady the shaking in his fingers for long enough to continue smoking it. This was ridiculous, the whole thing was ridiculous. It didn't change a thing if the flea had fallen in love with him, or with someone else. It was nothing. Nothing. It meant nothing. You can't suddenly love someone you've always hated, it doesn't work that way. It just doesn't.

This was all just Izaya's game, wasn't it? Shizuo thinking and feeling this way was just playing right into his hands. Shizuo hated it, and yet he couldn't shake the feelings, he couldn't shake the thoughts and the questions and those god damn fucking mental images. It was too much, it was all too confusing, and he didn't know what to make of it. He hadn't replied to the email from Nakura, Izaya, _him_, and honestly he didn't intend to. Ever. That would be giving him what he wanted, that would be giving in, and yet—

Shizuo missed Nakura. Not Izaya, not the flea, but Nakura. His Nakura.

Fuck. This was all so—_ fuck_.

What if Izaya knew that Shizuo was Shinozuka, and what if his feelings were real? Shizuo wasn't prepared for that outcome. Ridiculous. It meant nothing, it would change nothing. If that were true, it didn't mean that Shizuo would suddenly forget that he loathed the man and jump into his arms for hot sex and cuddles on the sofa. But, he had to know, didn't he? He needed to know whether or not this was a game devised for him or for someone else, he needed to know whether Izaya was lying or if he really had started to fall like Shizuo had for Nakura, for the man who didn't exist. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, but he needed to know. If Izaya had started to fall, then it meant something, it did. Shizuo just didn't know what yet.

He didn't move from the windowsill, even after stubbing out his cigarette and feeling the tingle in his legs from where they had started to fall asleep, but he couldn't stop staring at the box on the desk. What did it mean? A gesture like that had to mean something, it had to mean that Izaya had at least felt something for the man he thought he was playing with, because he knew the flea, he did. He knew that Izaya's attention span was akin to a child's, and that this was branching out, even for him. He knew that he never went this far or made this much effort unless he had something to gain or it was to annoy Shizuo. That left two options. The same two options as before, and yet slightly different, because now Shizuo had started to think that maybe, maybe, maybe Izaya wasn't as emotionless as he thought. Izaya knew that it was Shizuo on the other end or Izaya really had fallen in love with someone. Shizuo had to know which it was. Ridiculous. It was all so—

He hated Izaya, and Izaya hated him. That was how it went. They didn't like each other, let alone love one another. Fucking— this was just— And yet Shizuo knew that he had fallen for Nakura, and that Nakura was Izaya, and logic followed that this meant that he loved—

He had so many questions, and so few answers and he needed them in order to— to do what? He didn't even know himself. He didn't know what he would do when he got them. Would he just forget the whole thing and go back to how he had been living before? Would he confront the bastard and call him out on the game and beat him to a bloody pulp for once? Or was there a third road that was open for him that he didn't want to see just yet. He had fallen for Nakura, and Nakura had fallen for Shinozuka, but that— that didn't mean that he had fallen for Izaya or that Shizuo had fallen for him. No. It didn't mean that. Izaya didn't even know it was him, and if he did— if he did then this was just a game. No. No. Izaya and Shizuo couldn't fall in love, they just couldn't. How can someone fall in love with the person that they hate? That was against the rules.

It was getting late indeed, and Shizuo knew that he had work the next morning, but he couldn't sleep with these thoughts in his head. Pushing himself away from the windowsill, he grabbed his apartment key and headed out through the door. It creaked slightly as he shut it, a sign it needed some oiling or maybe for him to stop shutting it quite as violently as he did. He needed answers, and there was only one place that he was going to get them, especially at this late hour. There were only a handful of people who knew Izaya to the extent that he needed right then after all. One of them was himself, the other was Shinra and the third—

Shiki.


	29. Chapter 29: Drunk

Author's Note: I'm off to see the new Sherlock movie again in an hour or so. FAB.

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><p>Everything was different now. It was. Shinozuka had made damn well sure of that when he had decided that he wanted to become more than a player, that he wanted to become the game master. The stupid man had forced Izaya's hand, had forced him to do something drastic just to keep him clinging on. To admit there was a chance that he loved Shinozuka, what a fool he had been, what a bastard Shinozuka had been. What if that had been his plan all along? Pretend he was as hurt as he was just to get Izaya to admit that there were feelings hidden there after all.<p>

No. No.

When Izaya had gone out, dressed once more in those tight jeans and that same red t-shirt that clung to his chest, he had done so with the intention of drinking until this whole sorry game had been blown from his mind. He had gone with the intention of finding any half decent human to take to bed and wake up the next morning hungover and sore, bruised from a night that would leave him tingling for days to recall. It was purely an experiment, wasn't it? He would see just how effective the human way of dealing with stress was. The only way to get rid of a temptation was to yield to it, that was what he had always believed in, always.

It wasn't often that Izaya allowed himself to get drunk. In fact he was pretty sure that he had never allowed it. It was never something that had particularly appealed to him, it was never something that he ever saw himself really needing to do. He wasn't some stupid teenager that thought that alcohol was the be all and the end all of life. It wasn't, and most often it just caused far to many problems. Why would he want to open himself up to trouble like that? he liked to be in control of himself, he had to be in control of himself, and as such he would control everything that went into his body. Nothing unhealthy for him, no, no.

But everything was different, and that included tonight.

He had gone to the same club on Fifth Street, the little seedy one with its name in red flashing lights above the door. It was his favourite hunting ground, and the doorman knew him on sight, and waved him in without much trouble, allowing him to skip the queue without even having to slip the man some money. That was just him, that was what his reputation did for him. It worked wonders, it did, and he needed this, he did. The music was pounding again, as it had been the last time he had been here, and as soon as he stepped in through the doors he could feel his heartbeat comply with the bass throbbing against the walls. This was his domain, these were his humans, and fuck Shinozuka for thinking he could try and make Izaya feel any differently than that. He wouldn't- the man was a fool, a fucking fool.

He made a beeline straight for the bar, the place he normally waited, like a fisherman baiting in his prey, and seated himself at one of the stools there. Shinozuka, Shinozuka, Shinozuka. Izaya would prove that it didn't matter what the man said, it didn't. He wasn't weak and he could cope without him. Tonight he would have fun, and then tomorrow he would deal with it all, tomorrow he would go and track Shinozuka down and end this stupid game once and for all. What an idiotic, splendid game it had turned out to be. He had been stupid to carry it on for so long, things were better left short and sweet. They just were.

The barman flashed him a smile when he sat down, some busty blonde with a waist coat combo just like a dumb brute Izaya knew. She had unbuttoned the top, perhaps in a hope that would entice Izaya in, to spend more money, to tip her well. He resisted the urge to tell her she looked ridiculous, and that besides, he didn't even like women anyway. Instead he just ordered a drink, a strong one at that. When it arrived on the bar in front of him, he could smell the alcohol in it before he had even lifted it to his lips to shoot it back. Strong, hard, straight, just the way Izaya liked his men and his booze. It sang of danger, and he could barely taste it on his tongue, but could definitely feel the warmth of it as it slid back his throat. He shoved the empty glass back towards the chesty woman, ordering another three and shoved a large tip up the bar at her; in return she slid him down another glass, and left the bottle beside him to fill up if and when he pleased.

It didn't matter that he knew he had fallen for the other man, it didn't matter that the other man know knew he had. Izaya was in control. It didn't matter that Izaya just wanted to return to the way things were. It didn't, because he was fine with this. He didn't need Shinozuka, did he? No. No. No. Yeah, yeah. Shinozuka could choke on his fucking words, because Izaya had proved him wrong, and tomorrow he would have to deal with the consequences, and then- and then Shinozuka would realise he couldn't just go around breaking the rules like that. It didn't work like that, because Izaya didn't say that was how it worked. He was in control, he was. These feelings he had developed, he was in charge of them, he wasn't going to let hem rule him. They were feelings, emotions, not tangible. It didn't mean that he needed to act on them, and fuck, he wasn't going to. He wasn't.

Things seemed to become a pleasant blur after that. Izaya started buzzing somewhere between the sixth and fourteenth drink that he knocked back. His worries and his problems and irritated feelings hadn't gone anywhere, but they didn't feel anything nearly as serious as they had before. The bottle on the bar next to him had been full when it had been handed to him, and soon enough it was nearing the end. Ha. Ha. Maybe, just maybe, he could see why this was so appealing to his humans once in a while. He was thinking clearer, everything seemed to make so much sense. He needed to relax, to stop worrying about Shinozuka fucking Heikichi, because he was Izaya, because he was in control, and he wasn't going to let falling in love with the man with no face ruin him. He could be just as stubborn as Shinozuka could, and it was his game, and when tomorrow came he would renew his efforts, he wasn't going to give up. Fuck love and fuck Shinozuka. Izaya could cope without. He just didn't want to.

Things were blurring, blurring, blurring. Lines that had been clear cut before now didn't seem so hard, and Izaya found himself moving without really being aware of it. He finished the bottle, slid it up to the woman with her chest out, flashed her a wink despite it all, just because he could. Slipped from the bar stool and headed to the floor, managing to keep his footing with only a little wobble. He was just tipsy, just a little bit dizzy in love with himself, with the whole damn experience, with this club and this music and this pounding, thumping beat drumming through his very bones. He ended up in the dance floor, in its very centre, without really remembering how he had gotten there. It was hot and it was sweaty and this was just what he fucking needed. A night of this, with his humans, a night to sate the hunger and lust bubbling under his skin, burning and scorching. Someone had claimed him on the floor, had grabbed at his hips hard enough that Izaya was sure the action would leave delicious bruises on icy skin the next morning. He couldn't see the man, but it didn't matter, what did Izaya care for faces and names when he was in love with a man who he had never, ever met? And they were dancing, dancing, dancing, and Izaya could feel the other man grinding his hips into the back of his denim jean, insistent and hard and demanding Izaya's attention. And he threw himself back for all he was worth, his hips moving and bobbing along with the beat. It was enchanted, it was hypnotic and when Izaya turned to force a kiss on his partner, it became electric. This was what he needed, it was, it was. This was Shinozuka fucking Heikichi's payback. Izaya would teach him how to act. Oh Shino-chaaan, hadn't he said that Nakura had changed, well, well, it served him right, it did, this was what he got, Izaya was only giving the man what he wanted. He had told him how he felt, he had made an effort, and Shinozuka had tossed it back in his face. Izaya could play that game. He could. This was what he needed, and when tomorrow came, he would make sure that Shinozuka knew he hadn't thought of him all night. He would make sure that Shinozuka knew that he hadn't imagined that the man sticking his tongue in his mouth was actually Shinozuka, the monster, the bastard, the only man Izaya wanted to touch him, really.

"Izaya!"

He barely heard the call of his name, turned his head slightly to tilt his ear towards the sound but made no move to look. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He had all the time in the world, no, no, he was time itself, endless and stretching on and on and on forever and more. No rush, no hurry, he would deal with it when he wanted, because he was in control of everything, the world was his, and for now that was enough. Everything was buzzing, everything was blurring and all of Izaya's emotions, all of his feelings and personas were all crashing down onto him, and yet he had never felt so alive, had never been so turned on, so hot, so willing and ready to-

A hand grabbed at his arm, and that voice hissed out his name again in a growl that shot through to Izaya's lower body. He knew that voice, he had begged for that voice before. And yet he turned at that to protest at the rude little monster for interrupting him and this man he didn't know. The two stopped in their lewd grinding and dancing and that little game, and the man with the hands on his hips started to curse at the new arrival.

"What do you think you're doing?" hissed the man who had grabbed his arm, as if the stranger Izaya had been grinding up against just wasn't there or still wasn't sending verbal abuse his way. Izaya said nothing, just returned the stare the man in the white suit was sending him with a defiant glare of his own.

"Why the fuck do you care?" The information broker shot back, his lips twisting up into a smirk that seemed so much crueller than normal. He was used to being blunt, and he was used to being twisted and mean, but this alcohol, whatever it had been, had only made it worse, it had made him cruel and as heartless as he always considered himself to be. Izaya turned back at that, intent on just ignoring him and returning to this man who had picked him up, this man who he was more than happy to go home with, to be disrobed by, used by and dropped the next day. Whore, whore, whore, Izaya didn't care, he didn't care anymore. He didn't need love, who needed love when it fucked you over like this? Who needed love when sex was so easy, so quick and so damn fucking simple?

But that hand on Izaya's arm didn't go away, and soon he found himself being dragged out, cursing the lack of strength he had in comparison to the man towing him along. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who the fuck did Shiki think he was?

* * *

><p>Shizuo had known that his visit to the Awakusu-kai member's little home had been sudden, but he hadn't planned for the notion that Shiki would be out. In all honestly, he had never been here before, had never seen him before, had only ever heard of him through stories and underground rumours. He had been waved in almost immediately by some bodyguard, who had told him that Shiki had just gone out to pick up a package and would be back shortly. Shizuo had known that Shiki was supposedly known for treating all of his guests with respect, but this had not been what he was expecting.<p>

As he sat, on one of the sofas in the back room of Shiki's place, he started to wonder whether or not it had been that great an idea to even come. He had wanted answers, but had he wanted them so badly that he had really come to some gangster lair in order to get them? Nakura had really pulled a number on him, had really pulled at his feelings in all the wrong, or maybe all the right, ways to make him do something like this. Why, why, why? Did it matter that much, did it matter if Izaya knew who he was, did it matter if Izaya really was in love with him, with Shinozuka?

Shizuo wanted to tell himself that it didn't. He wanted to tell himself that nothing would change if he found out it was true. But he knew that was a lie, he knew that something would change, he knew that everything would change. He just hadn't figured out if that was a good thing or not yet. Good and bad, bad and good. That was Izaya and he all over, really, wasn't it?

The voices down the hallway gave him notice of someone arriving long before they appeared in the room, but he had not been expecting to see the people he did. A tall man in a white suit had entered, his face scarred and crinkled with frowns and what he guessed was an intimidating aura, his hair was as black as the night, and his eyes as hard as the scowl on his face. He knew without asking or being told that this man was Shiki, the man he had travelled across Ikebukuro to see so late at night. Shizuo stood up when he entered, conscious that there was another figure, draped over Shiki with a silly smirk and closed eyes. Shiki had wrapped an arm around this other man's waist, almost protectively and almost as if that was all that was holding him up. This man had black hair too, was dressed in black save for the red shirt that clung with sweat to a thin form that looked as if it needed a damn good meal. Shizuo couldn't take his eyes away.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

The other man was laughing, and when he looked up from Shiki, his eyes linked with Shizuo's.

"Ah! Shizu-chaaaaan~!"


	30. Chapter 30: Finding Out

**Author's Note: **Sorry for a lack of an update last night. I had one of those days where the chapter just did not want to come out right, so I gave up and played Kingdom Hearts instead. Today wasn't much better, but I forced myself to sit down and just write, WAH.

I've been thinking about putting together some kind of little song list for this fic too. Is is too early to do that? Buh I don't care, I have some great songs that I listen to whenever I write this.

* * *

><p>Izaya was having fun. Really, he was. What better time to be alive than this?<p>

He could feel the alcohol in his system, burning through his veins even thicker than the blood in them. It was toxic and it was electric and it was magic, magic, magic and why on Earth had he not indulged in this delightful pastime sooner? Humans were wonderful for inventing the stuff; really, someone ought to award them for this. This drink, or whatever it was he had been pouring down his throat, had certainly done a marvellous job in banishing his worries for the night. He had lost sense of the whole situation with Shinozuka at some point between his fifth drink and the fifteenth, he had forgotten what those silly feelings in him meant at some point on the dance floor when he had grinded with that nameless man. He had stopped caring that he had been ignored, tossed away by Shinozuka when the man had rolled his hips against Izaya's, and magic, magic, magic. This whole night was magic. This experiment had been a success, what fun, fabulous, toxic, and electric.

When Shiki had shown up, Izaya hadn't cared, really he hadn't. He had just tossed back at defiant glare at the one being sent his way. What did it matter that an ex-lover of his had shown up here? Shiki had made it quite clear that his love and lust had moved on, and Izaya had too. He had Shinozuka now; he had this man in front of him with the hard-on in his jeans, rolling into Izaya. It wasn't Shiki's fucking place anymore to look out for Izaya, to get mad at him with another man, and he didn't need babysitting anymore, he wasn't that same twisted, naïve little teenager who Shiki had known. But Izaya had still let Shiki pull him from the crowd and drag him back to the headquarters. He had babbled all the way there about this and that, making up for Shiki not speaking by laughing and skipping enough for the two of them. Somewhere Shiki had snaked an arm around his waist as if he thought that Izaya was going to tumble face first towards the floor but it meant nothing, nothing, nothing, not anymore. That was gone, that time was over, dead, done, finished.

Magic, magic, electric, toxic.

The little bodyguards at the entrance to Shiki's had given Izaya funny looks when they'd arrived back, but didn't seem particularly surprised. Apparently Shiki had given them some kind of heads up where he was heading when he had left. One of them leaned in to talk to the man, but Izaya didn't care, he didn't, because this wonderful, wonderful drink had made everything wonderful, had made everything bright and crystal clear and sparkling to behold. If he had thought his humans and their world beautiful before, they were even more so now, tinted with whiskey soaked glasses. He was buzzing, he really was, he was sweaty and tired out and alive all at the same time, and he could feel his heart thrumming in his chest like a caged bird ready to escape. Funny, funny, the heart he wasn't meant to have. When had the faceless man coaxed it into being? When had Shinozuka brought it to life?

Shiki had led him through to the backroom, and for a moment or two it felt like the two had fallen feet first into the past. Izaya could remember being led this way before, with Shiki's arm around his hip and lips fused to the skin at Izaya's neck. He could remember sweet nothings in his ear and his own husky breath and the empty room that was Shiki's office that greeted them at the end of a hallway or three. That led then to the bedroom, the room where he had spent a year calling his own, sharing with the older man beside him, moaning and whimpering and losing his childhood with every kiss he had, with every dirty act he took part in. But this wasn't the past, and Izaya didn't want it to be, he didn't, no, no, this was the present, and when they entered Shiki's office, it was far from empty.

"Ah~ Shizu-chaaan~!" He chirped, the slur of the alcohol only a faint lisp in his mind. The startling figure of Shizuo Heiwajima was hard to miss in the otherwise quiet room. Shiki had stopped the two of them in their walking forward, but didn't seem to be too surprised to see the other man there. Shiki knew everything though, the smartass, the clever fucking asshole.

"Mr Heiwajima, I trust you were comfortable in my absence?" Shiki spoke from beside him, in that same deep voice as always. He started to try and usher Izaya through the room, apparently eager to get him into the bedroom and out of sight of his new guest. Just like the old days, just like— people never change, an old dog can never be taught new tricks, can it?

Izaya wriggled under Shiki's hold, fighting against the grip on his hip. No. No. No. Just like the old days. No. No. No. Apparently after a few seconds, Shiki had grown irritated with his actions and let go with a click of his tongue. Fine, that was fine, Izaya didn't need him anyway. Liquid courage, that was what it was called right? He had that plenty, all he needed, he didn't need Shiki, he didn't need anyone, he was fine like this. Shinozuka could go fuck himself. He had himself and now he had Shizuo to play with, what more could he need? He was having fun, really, he was. Fun, fun, fun, just magic, he was buzzing; it was wonderful, lightning, lightning, that was him. It was.

Shizuo was staring at him. Even in this state, Izaya could tell. Those eyes, Shizuo's eyes, the eyes of some kind of lion, a beast, a monster. Shizuo Heiwajima was a monster, he was. But those eyes. They were molten, like fire, staring him down. Izaya didn't like it; it made him feel uncomfortable and it send tingles down his spine. Those eyes, golden and hot and liquid. He could feel his very skin heating up, flushing with tingles, like pin-pricks, like his limbs waking up after they had fallen numb. Gold, gold, liquid gold.

"Ah~ Shiki was brave to leave him here all alone," Izaya sang in a cheery lilt, muffling a little hiccup that worked its way up. "The dumb brute must have broken something while we were gone,"

He was buzzing, his veins were burning, and he was hot, hot, and hot. He needed this. This conflict, this fight, it would make everything better, make him once and truly forget about Shinozuka and every fucking thing about him. Shizuo was certainly not acting the way that Izaya had expected, though he half noted that it was probably because even the oaf realised that tossing Shiki's things around would not end well, it really wouldn't. He mused how angry Shizuo must be, knowing that he was here, within Shizuo's grasp, but that the blonde could do nothing about it. he could see the cogs working in Shizuo's mind, fighting some desire that must be there to hit him, kill him, whatever. But there was something else that Izaya could see in his face but didn't really care about in this intoxicated state, what did it matter? Any other time he probably would have stopped to analyse it, to play it against Shizuo in any which way that he could. But alcohol does funny things to funny people, and Izaya Orihara was no exception.

"Izaya," he heard Shiki reprimand from behind him, and Izaya laughed, but dropped the joke. Shiki always had been all for treating all of his guests with respect. It was a foolish notion; people weren't equal, so treating them so would just give them false hope for the real world. Shizuo was no exception. The brute didn't deserve this hospitality, he was a monster, an unrefined, angry, monster. He was Izaya's plaything, and right now, he didn't much feel like playing, and he hoped that Shiki would take the hint and get him out of here.

Izaya was buzzing, buzzing, the whole room was buzzing. He felt so wonderful, so carefree, just like the old days when Shinozuka Heikichi hadn't been around, before he had started that foolish game and gotten himself so tangled into it, lost himself along the way. He didn't really remember when he had skipped forward or why, perhaps it had been to start the usual fight with Shizuo to hold on to some kind of normality in an otherwise unmoral evening, or maybe it was the escape the hard look that Shiki was sending him. He didn't know, didn't care, but he had skipped forwards and somehow ended up blanking out and tumbling over something left on the floor. Clumsy, idiotic, human mistake, ha, ha, funny, it was, Izaya didn't make mistakes, he didn't, and yet this move of his had sent him stumbling, stumbling, falling, falling. He could hear Shiki move, as if to dart across to catch him. Fool, fool, fool. It wasn't his place, it wasn't. Fuck it. Izaya didn't need him. If he fell that was his own problem, it was his own mess to deal with. He anticipated the impact with the floor, welcomed it, welcomed the pain and the jolt and the inevitable wake up. What was this— his brain was all over the place, up and down and—

A hand grabbed at his upper arms, too tight and too hard. It hurt, and Izaya knew that it would bruise the next morning, but didn't see the seriousness of that.

"Wouldn't want you to fall now, _Nakura_," Shizuo bit out against his ear, promptly straightening Izaya up and shoving him back over into Shiki. Izaya's forehead crinkled with a frown, his eyes sparkling with excitement, with questions.

"Shizu-chan is so dumb, my name isn't Nakura~" Izaya laughed. He barely felt Shiki grip him to stop him falling, because all he could see was Shizuo's eyes, hard on him, before the blonde had turned and headed for the door. "It's—"

The feeling of things clicking into place was something that Izaya was used to as an information broker. He was used to having a million different parts of information and piecing them altogether until the made sense, it was his job, and the satisfied feeling that followed after was something he lived for. It made the whole thing worth it, well, mostly worth it, the money and the power and the knowledge had played a part in that too. That feeling of satisfaction didn't come here, and suddenly Izaya felt entirely too sober to be dealing with this news. Where was that delightful liquid when he needed it?

Shizuo. Shinozuka. The whole damn thing was—

"I guess I'll be back when you've had the exterminator round, Shiki," he commented, heading through the door. "I don't like bugs,"

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Just what do you do when you find out the man you love, is the one you're supposed to hate too?

_Fuck._


	31. Chapter 31: Confliction

**Author's Note: **I find it hilarious watching all of you freak out when I throw in some kind of cliff-hanger. Really, it's so cute I just can't help myself. Today's chapter is posted a little earlier than normal. I've got my work Christmas party tonight so I can't post it later~.

As for that FST I mentioned? I'm working on it right now, ~no regrets~.

* * *

><p>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. <em>Fuck<em>.

It was cold outside now that night had fallen and winter was on its way. It was always cold in Ikebukuro in the winter, despite the heat from the buildings and the people and the millions of light bulbs buzzing in the dark like fireflies caught in a web. The cool air biting at Shizuo's exposed skin did nothing to calm the irritation now aflame inside of him. It had bubbled as soon as he had stepped outside of Shiki's place and rounded the corner out of sight of it. Shizuo had gone to Shiki's looking for answers, but he had only left with even more questions. Izaya turning up had ruined everything, like always. Things never changed; even now it seemed, even on the brink of the very world itself unravelling. All he had wanted was an answer, that was all, and even that Izaya had managed to ruin. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so dead, deader than dead, dead.

He managed to hold off the frenzy for a few streets, at least until the ones that were lit with dimly flickering street lights. Dead, dead, dead, the louse was dead. His hands closed around some object; in this mentality he didn't care what, tearing it from the ground with frightening ease and tossing it at the street a few feet ahead with a growl of emotion. The few people that had been milling around soon fled after that, clucking in fright like a gaggle of hens spotting a fox approaching the coop. There was a pause where he just listened to the sound of breaking metal disappear into the air, and then his hands closed around another thing, tossing that to the ground, and then another and another, throwing and smashing whatever he could get his hands on. This anger, this irritation, this whole fucking thing, it was all so—

It was all Izaya's fault. These feelings were all to blame on him.

Shizuo had been able to smell the alcohol on Izaya's breath when the louse had come stumbling his way, it had crinkled his nose with the hard scent. Even he had been able to work out that this was out of character, that something had bent him well out of shape. Izaya had been drunk, and Shizuo wanted to know what had driven him to that. Had it been him? That just raised so many more questions, so many, so many. That would mean that the louse cared, that he really had fallen in love with him, with Shinozuka. Why did that matter so much? So many questions, so many that Shizuo felt like he couldn't deal with them all, and so few answers to make it all go away. No. No. The louse, the bug, that damn fucking bastard, it was all his fault, this was all his game, all designed to make Shizuo question every damn thing. It had to be, it just— because if Shizuo allowed himself to accept any other idea, any other possibility, what would he do then?

Leaving the ruin of the objects he had thrown on the floor behind him, Shizuo continued to stalk the streets, keen to put as much distance between Shiki's place and himself as possible. It wasn't long before he reached the park, one that lay not too far away from his own apartment complex and the station. He could still feel the irritation bubbling in him, let out through a muttered stream of 'kill, kill, kill' under his breath as he walked through the gates to take a seat at one of the benches. He bent, leaning down to rest his head in his hands and massage his temples as if that would make it all go away, make it all better again.

Shizuo didn't like this conflict within himself. He was used to being so certain, perhaps not always right, but he was used to being at least confident in what he thought. He didn't feel that anymore. Ever since he had started to develop feelings for Nakura, he had felt increasingly more vulnerable with every email he had sent to the other man. That wasn't any different now that he knew who Nakura was, if anything it was worse, because Izaya now knew everything he needed to ruin Shizuo, because Izaya was now the man who Shizuo had imagined being with, and that confused him more than anything. Was it possible to have fallen in love with a man he claimed to hate?

It was true that he'd never attempted to look beyond the surface with the flea. He had just decided that he hated him upon sight and that was that, just the way things went after that, because what other feeling could he have felt other than hate? What else could that tingle in his spine mean? He supposed he had never really given it much thought that the louse was capable of feeling things, that maybe they weren't so different after all, and that maybe this wasn't quite as ridiculous as— No. No. The whole thing was a joke. This was all part of the game, and Shizuo wasn't playing it. He wasn't.

The familiar rumble of a bike on the street didn't surprise Shizuo, nor did he look up when he heard footsteps approaching him. He knew who it was, even more so when the screen of a mobile phone appeared under his face, into his line of sight. Celty always seemed to find him whenever he was in these foul moods, and Shizuo always found something calming about her presence.

'_Are you okay?' _he read, blinking a little at the sudden brightness of the screen. He didn't reply at first, biting out a sour laugh and sitting up. Celty was staring down at him, the screen of her helmet directed at his face. She didn't need a face for Shizuo to be able to realise she was concerned, her whole being oozed it, from the hunched shoulders to the way she held her hands on her hips.

"Peachy," Shizuo laughed in reply, pushing himself to his feet, feeling his knees click in protest at the sudden movement. "Just— peachy,"

Celty removed her hands from her hips, bringing the phone back up to her face so that she could type another message. Shizuo snuck his hand into the pocket in his trousers to pull out a cigarette and his lighter, intent on getting the much needed kick of nicotine in his system. He needed that; he needed something, something to take his mind off of all of these conflicting thoughts, all of these emotions that he wasn't supposed to be feeling. For so long, all he had been used to feeling was anger and indifference, and that was all different now. Everything was different. It was. There was no denying that. And what about when those answers came, the ones that he really wanted? Things would be even more different then, wouldn't they?

'_You're a worse liar than Shinra is,' _read the little message on the phone now as Celty held it up. Shizuo laughed at that. He did. The sound rumbled out from his stomach and floated around the two of them in the cool, crisp night air. It wasn't often he laughed, it wasn't often that he was in the mood to laugh, but everything was different now, wasn't it? Everything, everything, everything. Shizuo didn't answer her that time, so Celty lowered the phone again to tap out another message. It was quiet in the park, and Shizuo could hear the sound of the buttons on the little machine tapping out as if they were right beside his ear, as clearly as his own heartbeat.

'_What's wrong?'_

How was he even meant to answer that? Everything was wrong, and yet nothing was wrong either. He had fallen in love, and that was good, but fallen in love with the man he hated, the bane of his life. He had been drawn into another one of Izaya's games, but there was nothing different in that, nothing unusual there. This conflict in him, that was what was wrong. He didn't like it, he wanted that clarity back, he wanted to just go back to the way things used to be, though whether that was before or after Nakura had come into his life he wasn't sure.

"Just that damn flea," Shizuo replied. What could be more true than that? He was the whole cause of this situation, he was the one behind all of this, he was. Shizuo exhaled the drag of his cigarette, context and serene as he watched the smoke dissipate into the night air, floating away to who knew where. It was calming, it was peaceful, and he could feel the anger floating away with each puff of smoke that disappeared from his parted lips.

This whole thing with this dating website had been a bad idea, and yet— Shizuo couldn't bring himself to regret it, even now, he really couldn't.


	32. Chapter 32: Drums and Doors

**Author's Note: **You know that Christmas present that I promised you? You're getting two now~. One can be found on my profile in the form of a little Christmas one-shot that I'll be posting tomorrow or later depending, and the other will be found in the next chapter that will be up tomorrow for sure. Everyone likes lemon-scented things don't they~?

Now the cryptic clue has been planted~ /Kiwi out/

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><p>Drums, drums, drums, that was what Izaya could hear. They were pounding inside of his head, as if a whole marching band had somehow wormed their way into his brain while he had been asleep and were now trying to bang their way out. He'd had migraines before, but nothing like this. Humans were completely idiotic, they were, why would they do this to themselves on such a regular basis? It was foolish, and the night before really wasn't equal to the dizzying pain and grogginess he felt now. Izaya was beginning to think his little experiment of the previous night wasn't worth it. Sure, sure, it had banished his troubles for a night, allowed him to revert back to the man he had used to be before this whole fucked up game, that carefree asshole that he was beginning to miss, but it hadn't kept them away. His problems were back, and now there was another one to add to the growing pile at his feet. Shizuo, Shinozuka, the two of them were one and the same now, and that just left Izaya in the middle of shit creek without a paddle or a boat to get back to shore. What was he meant to do next? This wasn't part of the game, he wasn't in control of it, and that scared him. When had his fingers slipped from grasping all of the strings of the game, when had his damn plaything flipped it around on him?<p>

He couldn't really remember all that much from the previous night, just little snippets of things here and there when he focused past the pain splitting his skull to see them. He remembered the club, dancing with that man whose name he hadn't bothered to get. He remembered Shiki's face under the flash of the lights and being towed out of the club into the bitter air. That was where the gap in his night came, and he couldn't remember anything up until Shizuo had caught him when he had stumbled, when Shizuo had called him by _that_ name. Nakura, Nakura, Nakura. Shizuo shouldn't have known that name, there was no reason for him to have known that name, and everything had clicked together. Izaya knew that even drunk, there was no way he could forget the fact that it had been Shizuo on the other end of the email chain. What were the odds of that? In a city full of how many people? Fate, destiny, mother fucking nature getting its own back, was that what this was?

Izaya remembered Shizuo leaving too. He remembered watching his back disappear out of the door without having tossed one object his way. Izaya remembered that he hadn't liked that feeling of being ignored. Izaya remembered wanting to know why Shizuo hadn't tried to kill him there and then. Shiki had stepped in then, when Izaya had let his legs give out to tumble to the floor, frowning, frowning, frowning. Who would have thought that the influence of alcohol would make things so crystal clear in his mind? Shizuo was Shinozuka, and Izaya was in love with Shinozuka, so that could mean only that he had fallen for the man he had meant to hate. That was something he had never factored into the end result of his game. Izaya remembered he had smiled at that, even now, Shizuo was refusing to conform to his rules, was still acting in a way that Izaya couldn't predict. Stupid, dumb, hopelessly fascinating brute, what was Izaya going to do with him?

Shiki had picked him up then, tucked an arm around his waist and taken him to bed, as he has used to do in the good old days. Izaya didn't miss them, he didn't, really. They were dark days; days of weakness and naivety that Izaya had long since rid himself of. Shiki could go fuck himself. If it weren't so cold outside, Izaya would have just left, he would have—

He had woken up in Shiki's bed this morning, and for the few brief moments before he was fully awake, had imagined that he really had fallen into the past; he had even gone so far as to question why Shiki wasn't in bed next to him, an arm draped over his waist like normal. Then the realisation had come crashing in like the light from his windows, too bright, stinging at his eyes and making the pounding in his head even worse.

He had quickly wriggled out from under the bed covers then, eager to get away from their stink of bad memories and a past he wanted to forget. Shiki had undressed him at some point the previous night he soon noticed, and had folded his shirt and trousers at the bottom of the bed so that he didn't crinkle them by sleeping in them; and Izaya felt sick, though whether that was his new hangover or the thought of Shiki touching his skin he didn't know, didn't care. There were no bruises, no hickeys or bite marks, so Izaya knew that nothing had happened, and that was good, it was. He didn't need pulling back into Shiki's world and bed when he had so much else to be dealing with in regards to Shizuo and Nakura and Shinozuka and himself and all those damn feelings swimming about in his heart, in his head, in his very being.

Shiki had been out when he had finished dressing and slipped into the other room, thankfully. Izaya didn't want to see his face, he just wanted to leave, go home and knock back some migraine tablets or five and curl up with some work for a client and mock Namie as usual. And take a nice, long shower while he was at it. Though he wasn't that in need of a wash, he felt dirty, he felt unclean, like there was something stuck to him that needed washing away with hot, hot water and a box of steam. That was what he wanted, but Izaya knew that people didn't always get want they want. He had stepped out into the morning air, hissing at the arrival of a sunny winter morning stabbing at his head, but his feet had not taken him in the direction of the station or Shinjuku itself as he knew would be the wisest option. They led him in the opposite direction, to an address that he had already memorised and that felt had felt so familiar even when he had first seen it. They led him through the streets and the park and through crowds of people to where he found himself now, stood in the dim hallway on the third floor of an apartment complex in Ikebukuro outside of a door that read '303' on it in fading gold lettering.

He'd been stood here for a while now, blinking at the wooden barrier with a frown and a scowl and his head still pounding and his stomach protesting it needed feeding with growls and grumbles and whines. When had he last eaten more than a few bites? No. No. Didn't matter, what mattered now was this game, in getting back in control, of finding out just where all the chips had fallen and what he had to do to make this whole sorry mess fix itself once again. It was stupid, it was a disaster, and he was ashamed that he had let it come so far, had let it get into such a sorry shape.

Izaya had been to this building before, only once, but he'd been here. When Shizuo had first moved in, Izaya had come to pay a visit, had messed with a few things in his apartment just to see how the oaf would react. How had he managed to forget it before? Had he really been that desperate to bring Shinozuka back into the game that his head had failed to notice his address was the same as Shizuo's? It was obvious now that he stood here, in that little hallway outside of his apartment, room 303. Nothing had changed since he had last been here, the paint on the walls was still flaking off in chips of buttery yellow, the light still didn't work and the hall was still dark. Shizuo's door handle was still wonky, and the apartment next door still had that little welcome mat outside reminding people to wipe their feet when they came in. Nothing had changed here, nothing, and it was as if the building was mocking Izaya. Nothing had changed for it, and everything had changed for him, his entire world had shifted like caught in the midst of some earthquake or hurricane or landslide and had just given out under his feet; it had just changed overnight, and left him falling, falling, falling.

The situation was ridiculous. Really, it was. To think that Izaya Orihara had come voluntarily to Shizuo Heiwajima's home, to think that Izaya Orihara had allowed himself not only to fall in love, but essentially to fall in love with his enemy, with one of his toys, with a beast like Shizuo Heiwajima. Yeah, yeah, it was fucking ridiculous, but Izaya wasn't laughing. Shizuo hadn't been laughing last night either. What did that mean? If neither of them found it funny, if neither of them could treat this as just another mind game, just another thing the other did to fuck off the other, what did that mean? It was serious, was that it? It meant something other than that? That one or the other or both of them had actually taken the budding romance with the other seriously? Izaya didn't want to think of the consequences of that. How could Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima ever do anything else but hate each other? It didn't work like that. Did it?

Izaya wasn't used to feeling uncertain about himself. He didn't like feeling uncertain, no, no. He was a vessel of self-confidence, glued together with a giant ego and a 'who really gives a shit?' attitude. He was used to knowing what he thought and felt about situation, but he didn't feel that here. If he thought of Shinozuka, then he knew that there was something there, some stirrings of love and attraction, he couldn't deny it anymore, there was no point. But what if he thought of Shizuo? He was a monster, a beast, a fucking— fucking— Izaya had never attempted to think of him in any other way. Shizuo was dumb; Shizuo was a monster, and that was that. If Shizuo had never seen anything else in Izaya, then he would see nothing else in Shizuo. Outward appearances, that was all. Izaya knew that the monster was capable of so much more, but he had never cared enough to look deeper before. But now— now that he had fallen— would that be his next move?

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

He had never meant for this game to go this far. He had never meant for this game to become this twisted and this messed up and for him to become so tangled up in it. He had never meant for himself to bring himself crashing down, lead himself to ruin with this game. That wasn't part of the rules, his rules, it was cheating, life was cheating, and Shizuo was cheating. It wasn't fair. It wasn't—

His hand clenched, forming a fist, and reached up to rap at the door, once, twice, and a third time, before it lowered. Izaya stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black jacket, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to knock, to alert Shizuo – no; it was Shinozuka now wasn't it – to his presence in the building, but he wasn't going to take it back or flee before he arrived at the door. In actuality, he wasn't sure why he had come here anyway. Perhaps it had been some need to confirm for himself that Shizuo was Shinozuka, perhaps it had been because he had questions that needed answers, and this was the best place to get them. He wanted to know why Shizuo hadn't attempted to kill him the night before like he normally did, or so he would tell himself, that would mask any other reason he might have been there. Because why would he care whether or not Shizuo Heiwajima's feelings were real? It wouldn't change anything; it would change nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

It would change everything, wouldn't it? It would. How could it not? Nothing would be the same if it was true that they had started to love each other, because how could they fight when deep down they had feelings, buried and hidden away. Was it possible to love part of someone and not the other? The thought scared him, it did. He didn't like it, the abyss that seemed to be approaching. They were both going to fall off, into the blackness, and who knew what would happen, who knew what they would become when they reached the other side?

His head was pounding, but Izaya could still hear the shuffle of footsteps on the floorboards on the other side of the door. There wasn't a peephole in the door, and he half wondered if it was a good thing or not if Shizuo knew it was him when he opened the door. His head was pounding, pounding, pounding, to the beat of his heart, to the beat of a marching band. There was a jingle of metal as Shizuo no doubt unlocked the chain on the door, the creak of the hinges as it whined open and then there was Shizuo, half dressed and seemingly having just gotten out of bed himself. His hair was sticking up in a casual disarray, gold tufts standing to attention. The look on his face on seeing Izaya in the doorway was priceless. It really was.

"Ah, Shinozuka-chaaan~" Izaya piped up, lips quirking into a smirk that he knew sent Shizuo's temper spiralling skyward. Why was he here, why, why, why? What had prompted him to do this? What, why, what was—

"Just who I was hoping to find, can Nakura-chan come in to play?"

Yeah, yeah, that look was priceless. _Really_, fucking priceless.


	33. Chapter 33: Stupid Things

**Author's Note: **I know I promised/hinted at some proper smut in this chapter, but I had to visit relatives and didn't get home until later than expected, so I didn't have time to go into so much detail with this chapter. But hey, we still have Shizuo's POV to come (lol) So I promise the next chapter will be more... lemony fresh.

DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO SPEND TOO LONG PROOFING. PLEASE FORGIVE TYPOS. ;_;

Next chapter will be up on Boxing Day – spending time with family etc tomorrow so I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas day too! The little Christmas one-shot I promised you is also now posted on my profile, so I hope you enjoy that one too. /Kiwi Out/

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><p><em>"Ah, Shinozuka-chaaan~" Izaya piped up, lips quirking into a smirk that he knew sent Shizuo's temper spiralling skyward. Why was he here, why, why, why? What had prompted him to do this? What, why, what was— "Just who I was hoping to find, can Nakura-chan come in to play?"<em>

The first mistake that Shizuo Heiwajima made was not to slam the door in the damn flea's face there and then. It would have stopped the whole thing in its tracks, would have stopped him letting that louse pull him into his twisted, fucking mind-game again. That was his first mistake, but it wasn't his last.

Izaya stood leant on the doorframe, lips quirked up into that smirk, that cocky, self-confident smirk that Shizuo fucking hated. He didn't say anything else after that, but his eyes hadn't left Shizuo's face. He could feel the irritation bubbling under his skin, just like it always did when he saw the flea in front of him, down the street, halfway across the city. It was different from normal though, it was like a slow burning flame, heating up in all the wrong ways, in ways that Shizuo wasn't used to. He was used to his rage peaking in all of two seconds, not this, this gradual rising scale of irritation. It felt odd, it didn't feel right, though he could only guess that had something to do with this fucked up situation and all this conflict within himself. It was all the flea's fault, all of his—

The second mistake that Shizuo Heiwajima made was not to say no when Izaya Orihara had asked to come in, and that was soon followed by his third mistake of the evening, which was to remain mute on the matter, and just stand in the doorway, half dressed and slowly working up the anger to kill the bastard on his doorstep. Nakura. Izaya. They were one and the same. Shizuo wasn't sure how a sane person was meant to react in that situation, and he got the feeling that thought was just what Izaya had wanted to create in him. He cared for Nakura, wouldn't want anything to come to harm him, and yet Izaya Orihara could end up dead in some back alley for all he cared. Was it possible to feel like this? Shizuo was pretty damn sure it sounded wrong.

"Do you have a death wish?" He bit out, too late, the words sounding robotic, forced. Izaya laughed, but that laugh sounded as fake as his words.

They were both different, they were. But with a situation like this looming over their heads, Shizuo guessed that made sense. It did, really. Unless Izaya hadn't fallen for his online self, unless this was all a game, in which case it was just Shizuo who had been twisted and turned and moulded by the man in front of him. Fuck this, fuck everything.

The fourth mistake that Shizuo Heiwajima made was letting Izaya Orihara into his apartment, and allowing the door to shut behind them. Fuck it, fuck it all, fuck this game and fuck the flea and—

"No, I've no real desire to die just yet, Shizu-chan," Izaya responded, matter-of-factly, pushing himself away from the doorframe where he had been leaning. "But if that is meant to scare me, you really need to work on your poker face. If you intended to kill me I would half-way down the stairs by now, wouldn't I?"

Shizuo laughed, low and bitter at that. The flea had a point, had called his bluff. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him? When had his feelings for Nakura reached such a point that Shizuo didn't want to hurt his creator, the real him? Things were different, they were, and he couldn't deny that when the evidence was staring him straight in the face. Back in the old days, if Izaya had turned up on his doorstep, Shizuo would have sent him flying back down the stairs with a broken face. And now— what of now? Now Shizuo was allowing him to stand there, casually conversing with him simply because he had fallen in love with the man Izaya had played? The fourth mistake that Shizuo Heiwajima made was to let the flea enter his apartment, and to shut the door behind him.

He should have tossed the flea across the room, sent him flying out the window or just thrown the coffee table at his fat head while he had the chance, but he didn't, he didn't do anything. Because there was still that fire, under his skin, in the pit of his stomach, telling him that something big was spiralling towards him, towards them, but that he shouldn't stop it. It was ridiculous, it was, but nobody said love was reasonable, and love, heh, love always made people do stupid things.

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><p>Infatuation, that's all this was. Infatuation, some patter of the heart which weakens the brain, causes blood pressure to rise, lips to pucker and jeans to tighten. That was all this was, all of these feelings for Shinozuka, for Shizuo or whatever, it was just infatuation, it had to be. Because there was no way that Izaya could love Shizuo, the monster, the beast, there was just no—<p>

He was angry, he was irritated with this whole situation, and he sensed that Shizuo was too. That tension, somewhere just now it had snapped. Izaya wasn't sure when, in both him and in the half-dressed monster he was with. He wasn't sure what had caused something in him to snap, and he wasn't entirely sure why Shizuo hadn't snapped his neck for it already, why the man was—

He had just stopped thinking, because that was the way to do it, because it stopped all those nasty, niggling feelings and thoughts in his head. To stop thinking was glorious, just like the drink from the night before, it solved everything. Things became simpler. Izaya loved Shinozuka, but no, no, he didn't, did he? It was just an infatuation; he just wanted to get into the man's pants. That was all. The only way to give in to a temptation, an infatuation, was to yield to it, to just give in. Izaya was good at doing just that, he was good at acting on instinct. He had spent years of his life doing just that, giving in to pleasure, to his lust, just going to a club and letting some stranger take him in their bed just because he wanted it. It was nothing new, no, no, so what if he had now decided the next man he chose was Shizuo Heiwajima, the monster, the oaf, and the man he was supposed to hate? So what, so what?

Izaya couldn't begin to tell where he ended and where Shizuo began. Their mouths had locked, though who had started the kiss he didn't know, didn't care. The familiar tightening of his trousers was enough to send reason flying out of the window. There were hands, everywhere, his, Shizuo's, again, he didn't know, didn't care, just wanted this fire in the pit of his stomach quenched, wanted this need to be gone, dealt with, ended. This was just infatuation, just lust, and the sooner it was dealt with the sooner Izaya could end this game, the way it was meant to, the way he had intended. To even consider that he could fall in love with this beast, this monster, what kind of fool could ever love a man like him?

Things were blurring again, Izaya couldn't tell what they were doing or where they were going, only that they were moving through the brute's apartment. It was like being drunk again, like having that delightful buzz coursing through his veins. Faintly he could register things being knocked off of the coffee table as they passed, the door to another room banging against the wall as it was kicked open. This was madness, it was, fucking blissful madness that he had allowed himself to fall into. But it didn't matter, not now, what mattered was dousing the fire, what mattered was letting that brute fuck him any which way he wanted. Izaya didn't care right now, Izaya was barely at home in his mind, just some primal creature of lust and passion and _god- _for a novice, Shizuo certainly knew how to push his buttons.

The bed came soon after that banging door had reached his ears, and the two tumbling, falling together to land on the mattress. The springs were hard, squeaking as they landed, and Izaya could feel them digging into his back. Shizuo's weight was on top of him, a delightful reminder of the muscle and that power rippling under the skin. He could feel Shizuo's hips against his, and ha, ha, the monster was just as turned on by this as he was, just as aroused by this fucking wrong situation. Neither of them were thinking, neither of them could really love the other, this was just lust, just tension, just some fucked up version of love or hate or something.

"For an amateur, _Shinozuka_-chan is good," Izaya smirked out when their mouths broke apart. His chest was rising, falling, in rapid motions as he puffed in gulps of air. Shizuo didn't return the look, his face was hard, it was smooth, and tinged the most delightful red. If anything, he seemed angry, like this was proving some point to Izaya that he was supposed to learn from. Idiot. That was the only pause that came in their night, because then Izaya stepped across the line, returned his mouth to Shizuo's hot and hard and merging in all the right places. Ha. Ha. This was so fucking wrong that he couldn't even find the words to describe it, but he wasn't going to stop, he wasn't. Madness, insanity, some mix of the two, ha, ha, fucking hilarious.

Izaya slid a leg around Shizuo's hips, and then the other, and then turned them over, flipped things, back to the way they should be, with him in control, him in charge. He let his hands have free reign to do as they pleased, popping open the buttons of Shizuo's shirt to roam up and down and over that chest, dotted with a scar here and there that he knew had been due to his knife, his arrogance, and their fights and chases in the city streets. Shizuo was warm, so warm, a delightful contrast to the cool touch that Izaya provided. They were a contradiction, always were, always would be, hot and cold, good and evil.

When they broke the kiss again, Izaya turned his attention to Shizuo's neck, nibbling and biting and licking at the skin there. This was Izaya's comfort zone. He had fucked and been fucked enough to know what to do to get his lover moaning, to get them arching up into him. He wasn't like Shizuo, who had done this only once before, he knew what to do, what had to be done and what he sure as hell wanted to do. It didn't matter anymore who this was, Izaya was too far gone to care, to even notice, and by the way Shizuo mewled out a little moan when Izaya lowered a hand to his crotch, so was he.

Things were blurring, and time seemed to have crashed together, collided, endless in this moment, and hurling itself along at a pace that sent Izaya's head spinning. He was impatient now, he didn't have time for foreplay or romantic cuddles and kisses, he wanted Shizuo, hot and hard and pounding away until they were both sated, until this infatuation, ridiculous, mad, could be brought to an end.

He sat up, shimming down the body of the brute, that monster, the man he was supposed to hate. Ha. Ha. His hips straddled Shizuo's, and when he took a moment to examine the state of the man below him, he couldn't help but let out a delightful cry of amusement at his ruffled, flushed state. His hair had spread, sticking up in tufts of gold, though Izaya could only barely remember running his hands through it. His lips were red, pink from where he had nibbled at Shizuo's lip, and he could already see the little dark shadow of his mark on the Shizuo's neck forming. Ha. Ha. Let the brute have fun trying to explain where that had come from the next day. It would serve him right for stirring these things in Izaya, and it would give him endless amusement to think about what he would tell Tom.

Izaya didn't waste too much time looking though. He cared little for the man under him; all he wanted was the hard object waiting for him, straddled under his hips. That was all, just sex, all it was, angry, hot, meaningless sex. Right? Right. Infatuation, that's all. Because Shizuo and Izaya couldn't love, they were born to hate. No. No. Izaya didn't care, and with that thought in mind, he unzipped the top of Shizuo's trousers, lowering them down and down his legs along with the underwear that he had been wearing. Izaya smirked as Shizuo's breath hitched in his throat, and without another thought, lowered his head and claimed his prize.


	34. Chapter 34: Friction and Heat

**Author's Note: **Please excuse my little uh, slip up in the last chapter. Apparently a shirt magically appeared on Shizuo halfway through. Oops. This one is properly proofed to avoid mistakes like that. I hope.

Well, I hope you all had a lovely Christmas! Did Santa bring you lots of cool things? And welp, I hope this is ~smutty~ enough for you fangirls. I'm not that good with things like this. But I hope you enjoy anyway. (。-ω-)

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><p>"Fuck—" Shizuo hissed out with a low growl between gritted teeth and a buck of his hips. Izaya was quick to correct that, his hands lowering to press Shizuo back into the bed with a chuckle that sent tingles running down Shizuo's length, swallowing deeper. Shizuo grumbled again, fingers twining in black hair, tugging, impatient and needy.<p>

Who gave a damn what the flea wanted? He didn't, he didn't— he couldn't even register there was a person there anymore; he just needed more, so much more. Selfish? Heh. He didn't care, was too lost to care. His fingers curled around the inky hair of the head bobbing at his groin, and his spare hand fell to fist the bed covers, gripping both until his knuckles were white. He needed this, this friction, this tension, this heat. Who cared, really, really, who gave a fuck who it was he was doing this with? It didn't matter, nothing mattered, just that heat. Fire, fire, it was all over him, burning his skin and scorching, scorching, scorching everything from his head to his toes. Fire, fire, bubbling and pooling, rushing through his veins and under his skin and curling and spilling into the pit of his stomach, it was addicting, it was toxic, and it was pulling Shizuo under its control with every second that passed. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't realise anything outside of this heat, all over, everywhere in him and on him and something completely separate. It was— it was— _fuck, fuck— _

It didn't even matter anymore that it was the louse; it didn't, because when the bastard ran his teeth down and down to scrape against sensitive skin as he pulled back so that his lips wrapped around the head— fuck. Shizuo was too far gone to even care who was down there, mouth wrapped around him in that wet heat, all he wanted in that moment was more; more heat, more friction, more of that delicious sensation swirling in his gut. He was past the point of no return, past the point where he could even recognise the flea, bent and flushed at his crotch, past the point where he cared. That tongue, god, that tongue, swirling around and around, teeth pressing against the even more sensitive spot beneath the head. Fuck—

Fire, fire, it was addicting, it was, and Shizuo was certain that it hadn't felt like this last time he had done this, not with that man from the bar, no, no way. So no, no, it didn't matter that it was the louse, didn't matter, just pleasure, just his heat and that suction and— His heels dug into the mattress, toes curling and back arching again, breaths tearing in harsh pants from between his lips, bitten and chewed. Transfixed, Shizuo dipped his head to watch with hooded eyes, staring down at the flea, that bug, that bastard on him, around him, all over him as his cheeks hollowed and his head bobbed, loose strands of hair hanging around his face.

"N-ngh—!" Shizuo could feel his muscles tightening, everything tightening. He was hot, so hot, burning and scolding and there was just fire and heat, everywhere, inside and outside and in the air around him, in that wet mouth with that delicious suction. Hot, hot, hot, he could just feel the pleasure pooling in his groin. The rhythm that the louse had started was changing now, as quickly as the shift in their relationship, speeding up, steadily creeping faster and faster towards the glorious crescendo, the climax. Fuck, fuck— it was still Izaya who was setting the pace of this, despite Shizuo's hand on his head, despite Shizuo's power, his might, that cursed strength of his. But it didn't matter, it didn't, so long as Shizuo got what the fuck he wanted, that climax, that blinding light at the end of the tunnel.

And there was that feeling again, the rising of heat in him, that addicting feeling that was pulling him under and tearing those grunts and groans from his parted lips, sending his toes curling and cheeks flushing. Ha. Ha. The idea was crazy, it really was. Izaya, the flea, leaning over him, sucking him off with such enthusiasm that one would think that they didn't hate each other, that he was enjoyed it just as much as Shizu—

Toes flexing, Shizuo let go with a sharp, long groan, breaking off into harsh pants. Izaya didn't move though, continuing to suck, nip and lick at Shizuo's length until he was quite satisfied that there was nothing left for Shizuo to give. He sat up then, with that irritating smirk on his mouth, twisting it, his tongue peeping out to lick at his lips, still rouged from Shizuo's hard kiss earlier. Shizuo returned the gaze for a moment with hooded, hazy eyes and flushed cheeks. His chest was still rising and falling, he was still coming down from that high; he'd fallen enough to register who it was sat on his hips, who had just done what they had done, but the haze and the heat hadn't cleared enough for him to do anything about it. He was still hot, still half hard, and really, really, a monster like him had to take it while it was there, didn't he?

Tomorrow, yeah, yeah, maybe tomorrow they would go back to hating each other, tomorrow they would forget about this bullshit and these games and go back to killing each other the normal way, through physical hurt, tangible and real. Tomorrow, yeah, yeah, because tonight, all Shizuo wanted was more heat, more friction, to feel that toe curling climax again. And if the flea was the one who could give him that, then so fucking be it.

There was a pause now, a lull where neither of them spoke. Shizuo wasn't sure how long it was, didn't care, didn't count, it felt like an age, but was probably mere seconds, and then they were locked together again, locked in heat and lust and had quite forgotten who the hell the other really was. Izaya had leant down now, his chest pressed to Shizuo's as their mouths locked, tongues sliding and twisting and twirling. He was still leading the way, still having to coax Shizuo into knowing what to do. It was he that knew this well, it was he, not Shizuo, who knew the ins and the outs of this. He only knew the basics, only knew what had to be done but not the intensity of any of them really. Nakura and Shinozuka, it was like they had fully thrown themselves into those roles without really realising it, the most elaborate and subconscious little roleplay, another little game that neither of them were aware of.

Shizuo growled when the kiss broke again, and Izaya's mouth latched at his jaw, at his neck, once again. Heat, fire, bubbling and sliding down to his crotch again. It didn't take long for Shizuo to kick off the remains of his clothes where they had pooled at his feet, it didn't take long for him to flip the situation, to pin the bastard under him to the mattress, just where he ought to be, beneath him. Izaya merely smirked, a dirty laugh flying from his mouth before Shizuo cut that short by colliding their mouths again, tongue slipping inside. Arms came up to snake around him, the fingers digging into the bare skin of his back. Izaya raised a knee to give him more room to press closer, to grind his hardness against the one that lay hidden beneath the crumpled black trousers. Friction, friction, it just added to that heat, in his groin, his stomach.

Shizuo slipped a hand up and under the fabric of Izaya's shirt, skimming over his stomach, which seemed to be fluttering under the feathery touch, under the heat. Shivering, Izaya shifted, his back arching slightly to press closer to the heat of Shizuo's body, to the hips pressed against his own. Shizuo pushed the shirt higher, and Izaya briefly lent up to tug it over his head and off. Shizuo's head lowered, nipping and licking and sucking at the fluttering chest beneath him, pale and cool as the moon. He knew the basics, he did, had heard enough stories to know the sorts of things men liked, the sorts of things he was meant to do; though he'd never done any of them before, the moan that curled like smoke from Izaya's lips when he latched onto the nub of a nipple was enough to tell him that he must be doing something right. He could feel nails digging into his back, and a soft gasp leaving Izaya's mouth as he bit just a little harder, the sound going straight to his crotch. Izaya bent his other knee, spreading his legs to let Shizuo lay flush against him.

Shizuo couldn't help but smirk at that, he couldn't. The power, the control, it was a kick, some high that he didn't want to drop. Before had been different, that man had done all the work before, he had been the one to lay on Shizuo, had been the one to thrust into him, and now Shizuo had gotten a taste at the other side of the coin. It was good, it was fucking—

"A-ah!" Izaya bit out, despite himself, hips bucking when Shizuo suddenly plunged a hand down the front of his trousers. He could feel the blonde against him, palming the hot heat in his underwear, eliciting another low groan. Shizuo's fingers curled around him, stroking a couple of times, three times, four, before he had removed his hand and brought it back up and out in favour of hooking his thumbs into the belt loops at the top of the fabric; dragging them down, down, down along with a pair of underwear in the same scarlet tone as Izaya's shirt from the other day.

"S-stop fucking teasing," The raven protested, wriggling, nails digging into Shizuo's back again, shifting and writhing under the man above him, looking for friction as those clothes were tossed to the floor, leaving him bare from the waist down and the waist up, just like Shizuo, a perfect match. Shizuo chuckled, nuzzling at his neck, nipping at his Adam's apple with all the confidence in the world, as if he had done this a million times before and not just the once.

No. No. It didn't matter this was only the second time that Shizuo had had sex, only the first time he had been on top for that matter, let alone the fact that the someone he was about the fuck was his enemy, the asshole, that bastard, the flea, the bug, Izaya. It didn't matter, because he was hot, he was hard, and he was too far gone to care, too far gone to stop. He'd regret it tomorrow, or the next day or maybe even when he had come for a second time, but it didn't matter— only heat, only— _fuck_—

When the louse did things like that, how could he care, how could he stop, how could he come down from this high of heat and lust and—?

_"Ah!"  
><em>

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><p>Izaya had gotten bored waiting, had tired of letting Shizuo move at his own sorry pace. Who cared what the brute wanted? He wanted to be fucked, he wanted— ha. He wanted Shizuo to shut the hell up and just lose them both in a world of heat and friction. He didn't care if the monster wanted to wait, to take his time. He certainly didn't care if Shizuo was nervous, he didn't care that the oaf didn't really know what he was doing. Izaya did, and he wanted it, and he would do it all if it meant he could just get off and get this heat in his stomach to vanish, to feel sated and full and—<p>

He tugged one of Shizuo's hands up from where it had just been, breaking away from another kiss to close his mouth around those long digits. Of course he realised that the oaf wouldn't just have lube or something lying around his place. The man was a self-confessed prude, someone who had only been fucked once before, and only a few weeks ago at that, but Izaya wasn't going to let the evening progress without some sort of makeshift stuff. He'd been there before, and it wasn't pretty. Licking and sucking and nibbling at Shizuo's fingers, he realised this would have to do. They were warm, as warm as the rest of Shizuo's body, now pressed flush against his, hot skin burning against cool skin, flushed.

The look on Shizuo's face would have been funny if the situation had been different, if Izaya hadn't been so damn hot, so damn needy and too damn lost to really realise just who and what they were, what they were doing. The blonde's eyes were hooded, hazy, and even now, as Izaya locked his own with them, he couldn't escape the smoulder in them. Monster's eyes, the eyes of a beast, liquid pools of molten gold, and yet they promised so much more, so much that Izaya knew he had never even tapped in their games. But hey, hey, he didn't care, not right now when he could feel his hips rolling up into Shizuo's, crotch pressing against crotch.

He cocked an eyebrow when the fingers popped from his mouth, a string of saliva lingering briefly in the air between them before Shizuo pulled them away, breaking the connection. There was another lull, another lock of eyes that seemed to crackle with something that Izaya didn't know, didn't understand, some little spark of realisation, some truth that slipped through. Perhaps they both did know what was happening, perhaps they did, but neither of them was stopping. Their relationship had taken such a terrifying shift and this— was this the result of that?

All thoughts like that were banished when Izaya felt those same fingers teasing below him, tucked between his legs. Still panting, still utterly fucking human, his legs spread wider, nails digging into Shizuo's back, again and again. Warm lips kissed along his jaw, sharp teeth nipping at the delicate skin stretched across his collarbone as he felt one slip inside, rapidly followed by another. Izaya bit his lip, squirming against the sheets. He was used to this feeling, used to the stretching and the notion of being filled, and when a third finger entered, his toes curled. He was used to it, but the fact that it was the brute, that monster, Shizuo, _Shinozuka_—

No. No.

This was what he wanted, this was what he needed. _God_. Why was Shizuo taking so long? He needed it, now, now, _now_. Izaya continued to writhe, bucking his hips; he was spiralling downward into primal lust, into a whimpering mess of raven hair and slim hips. He was losing control, his fingers slipping, and he was falling, falling, falling—

Sparks shot through his body when Shizuo hit that spot inside, though probably unintentionally, making him cry out. He dug his heels into the mattress, back arching. He couldn't— how could he think with this— he couldn't— couldn't— fuck— Had it been this way with Shiki? Izaya was sure that it had never been like this, he was sure that he had never been this hot. He didn't know what to make of that, he didn't like what it implied. This man was a monster, Izaya shouldn't be enjoying this— he shouldn't—

No. No. It had never been like this with Shiki.

"Ready?" He barely heard Shizuo's quiet word, his quiet question. He barely heard the stutter in the blonde's voice, he barely registered how amusing it was that Shizuo even cared if he was prepared enough or not. He barely realised he was nodding, far too far gone to care about anything other than this, anything other than the hard length of Shizuo Heiwajima bringing him over the edge, into bliss and white.

Izaya raked his nails down Shizuo's back as he watched the blonde lick his lips, some nervous tick no doubt. Who cared, who cared? He didn't, and his pride and his ego fought to keep from crying out as something biggerand harder than the brute's fingers pressed against him, into him, stretching, stretching. He gasped, teeth gritted. It was fine, it was, he needed this, was used to this.

Ha. Ha. The situation was hilarious, it really was. Fucking hilarious that Shizuo Heiwajima, the monster was about to do this to him. Izaya wanted to laugh, but he didn't stop him. He didn't even think about making him stop, especially not when he thrust, suddenly, hard, filling him in that delicious way that had Izaya rasping out a gasp. Friction, ah, that friction, so hot and so—

"Hurry u-up," Izaya protested again, voice strained, forcing his body, willing it to adjust faster than it was doing. Slowly, Shizuo pulled out before pushing in again, shoving him body into the mattress. His hands came to rest either side of Izaya, to support him as he moved, and Izaya in turn removed his arms from Shizuo to fist at the covers, knuckles white. Shizuo set into some kind of rhythm, one that had Izaya panting, his chest rising, falling, breath ghosting out harshly, ragged and raw. That feeling, of being filled, so connected, so hot and so— this was— _god_— the next thrust, angled just right_,_ made him moan, loudly, hips bucking. For someone that didn't know what the fuck he was doing, Shizuo was hitting all the right spots. Beginner's luck, ha, ha, fucking hilarious.

"A-again,"Izaya commanded, begged, whined, his head thrown back. Shizuo's teeth dug into his shoulder as he pounded, harder, faster, hotter. The raven lifted his legs to wrap around Shizuo's waist, groaning and panting; he weakly locked his ankles together, legs straining to pull Shizuo harder against him, hips lifting meet his thrusts, to alter the angle. He needed that spot to be hit again, needed that heat, that friction, dragging him to that crescendo, the climax, the glorious ending that was coming closer and closer until Izaya was sure he could taste it, see it, hear it.

Izaya could hear Shizuo's voice in his ear, grunting, groaning, muttering about how hot he was, how tight he was, how good he felt inside, how— _fuck_— but Izaya didn't care. He didn't. He didn't care about this beast. He didn't care what he wanted or thought, he just wanted to get off, to give in to the pleasure and the heat pooled at his stomach. A few more thrusts from the brute above him, and he could feel his muscles tightening, could feel that heat, burning, scolding. A warning cry barely left his mouth before his back was arching, sharply, up off of the bed and into the hard, hot chest above him, as he came, spilling between their heated chests, their hot skin. Shizuo followed soon after, and Izaya heard the blonde's low, husky moan in his ear as he did so. Izaya let his legs fall from around Shizuo's waist, and the blonde pulled out, rolling to the other side of the bed.

There was silence that followed. Shizuo seemed like jelly, like some boneless doll, eyes half shut, panting and glowing in the aftermath as he came down slowly from his high, sleep closing in on him fast. Izaya was wide awake though, the migraine from his hangover was back, full force, and everything was so—

Things were no longer hidden in a cloud of lust, and it was all too obvious just what the hell had happened, just who the hell he had tumbled around with in that bed, just who had left marks on his neck and he had marked in turn.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This wasn't part of the game. It wasn't.

The oaf was already half asleep when Izaya rolled himself from the bed. The covers were strewn around the place, half hanging over the bed and onto the floor. Izaya felt in the need of a hot shower, something boiling and steaming to wash away the dirt, both literal and mental. He could feel Shizuo's touch on him, feel his skin tingling and a wetness between his legs that he cringed at. Dirty, dirty, dirty, he felt so dirty. To come here, to suck off that brute, and to let himself be fucked by him, to let him— Dirty, dirty, dirty, he felt so dirty.

He grabbed at his clothes after a quick trip to the little bathroom for a wad of tissue, not stopping for longer than needed. He was dressed in a breath, dressed in a heartbeat. Shizuo was still in the bedroom, sleeping or feigning it at the least. Izaya didn't know, didn't care. This whole thing was so fucked up, this game, this—

Why did everything seem so different now? Everything had shifted; the whole world had fallen apart. Izaya felt numb as he slipped through the apartment and out of the door, fleeing, fleeing, fleeing back through the light towards the underworld. He needed to get out of here, he needed to be away from everything and everyone and—

Dirty, dirty, dirty. That's what he was.


	35. Chapter 35: Lust's Ghost

**Author's Note: **Just a bit of a filler chapter here.I'm working on the first chapter to another Shizuo/Izaya fic at the moment so I want to get that finished to post up tomorrow~. It's an AU and I'm really excited about it. It will probably only be updated every other day or something when I do post it, but I'll let you all know in the hope you'll enjoy it just as much as this one~?

~lol I'm guessing the smut went down okay?~

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><p>It was dark when Shizuo woke and the curtains in his bedroom remained open, flooding the room with eerie light from the enchanted metropolis below the apartment complex. It was getting late from what he could tell from the time flashing on the clock on the bedside table in blinking green digits, flashing in the dim light. He'd had to squint at the little green numbers illuminated on the digital object, but it told him that it was gone eight in the evening. The few minutes that passed were blissful, calm and serene and nice with those last little rays of sleep clinging onto Shizuo with pearly, shadowy fingers, clouding everything in his mind except the question of where the hell the day had gone; it seemed to have slipped away without him noticing, while he had merely slept on, oblivious to the world until the daylight had seeped away into the dark corners of the city and a chill had set into the room, rousing him from his slumber with cool fingers pressing at his skin.<p>

That haze of sleep vanished after a while, a minute or two or three after he first woke, disappearing into the cool air of his apartment, lost in the shadow of the other room. It was then that the realisation of that morning and its events came crashing down onto him, all at once, like a torrent of rain that he had ended up tangled up in, lost in a hurricane without an anchor to drop in the storm. The calm air around him vanished, and he felt agitated, irritated and horrified all at once. Love, heh, had love caused this situation? This feeling of- of whatever it was inside? Love, fuck love and fuck the flea too.

Heh. No. Already done that, hadn't he?

He bolted up, and the covers that had been thrown messily over his lower half dropped to pool at his hips, crinkling and folding over each other. He could feel the chill on his skin, naked and bare. He could see the bed covers, half tossed off of the bed and onto the floor. He could see the remains of his clothes, his underwear, thrown across the room. He could feel a dull ache, that warm sated tinge in his muscles. He could smell and taste something on the air, that tinge of sex or something from earlier, he only vaguely remembered it from that night with that man, weeks ago. He could fill the lingering touch of fingers raking down his back, realising there would probably be scratches left to shame him in secret. He could feel the ghostly figure of a tongue against his, a tongue on him, licking and sucking and—

No. No. _No_.

Was this what Izaya had been planning from the start? Was this the purpose of his whole twisted game? Make Shizuo fall in love, make him weak and open and make him change and betray his own principles, and then to fuck him, to do whatever, and then just leave and watch him crumble – was that it? Was it? It sounded like something he would do. Something that he would get a kick out of. _Bastard_. Or was the plan to just destroy Shizuo from the inside out, to do what they had done earlier and force the blonde to relive it, to think about it over and over, hate himself for doing it? Shizuo didn't know, he didn't, the whole situation had just gotten so much worse. Shizuo had still be in a conflict with himself, still trying to deal with the whole _Nakura is Izaya_ thing, still sorting through the falling in love with a man that didn't exist thing, and then this?

Damn that fucking flea. He was— he was—

How had Shizuo even gone along with it? How had the damn fucking louse managed to get him to do all those things without Shizuo getting mad, without Shizuo tossing him out the fucking window and slamming it closed behind? It was— god, he didn't know. He didn't have an answer, to anything, he didn't know why, and he was pretty sure that he wouldn't like the answer anyway but— but what?

With a sigh, Shizuo brought his hands up to rub at his face, his eyes, as if by rubbing away the sleep that it would rub away this horrid situation, would rub away that morning and what had happened in it. The images stayed burned on the backs of his eyelids, even when they were shut. His skin still tingled, betraying his own mind's desire to forget, to shun the images and the proof and to go about lying. If he told himself that it had never happened enough, then soon enough he would start to believe it.

This was just—

No. No. No.

What even was this? This wasn't part of their relationship. They were born to hate each other. They were. That was just the way things worked. This deviated so far from that idea, that truth that he didn't know what he was. When had this shift happened, and what had caused it? Fuck. Fuck. This was way past the line, so far into uncharted waters that- fuck. He didn't have it in him to like the louse, and love? No. No. It was out of the question, it was. Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara were born to hate, they were. They were too similar repelling each other like magnets, just like he'd learnt back in school, back when he was small, still growing, and still learning. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sex with the flea? No. No. It didn't work that way. This wasn't like Shizuo either, it wasn't. Sex was supposed to be with someone you loved, wasn't it? He wasn't the sort of person to just do it because he was horny, because he was hot. That wasn't him, he wasn't like that, really, he wasn't. He just didn't do it, let alone with someone he was supposed to hate.

_Fuck_—

He didn't understand what had even happened; he didn't understand the feeling that had overtaken him. Was his lust so powerful that it had overridden his usual urge to kill the informant, or was his lack of rage because of something else? Was it because of Nakura, and the feelings he had for him? Shizuo knew that he was falling for or had fallen for Nakura, that man with the cheeky emails and the saucy ways, he couldn't deny that anymore, he couldn't deny that he had felt something. Shizuo didn't want to hurt Nakura, so what? Did that mean that he couldn't bring himself to hurt Izaya either, knowing they were the same. He loved Nakura, he did. But what did that mean for him and for Izaya? It should mean that he had fallen for him too, and there was no denying that Shizuo felt— what did he feel? Different. So different. It was all so confusing, all so conflicting. Shizuo just wished there was someone out there who could just explain to him what the hell was going on, what the hell he was feeling.

When had love become so damn confusing? He hadn't asked for any of this. All he had wanted was love, just to find some companionship and then this had happened?

_Damn. Damn. Damn._

Th_e _ring of his mobile phone on the bedside table sent those thoughts flying temporarily from his mind, though with the way his body felt when he stood, leaning over the mattress to reach it, they weren't banished far from him. As he flipped open the screen, he noticed a dozen text messages that had appeared through the day as well as missed calls, all, he guessed, from Tom. Well, who wouldn't call their employee if they didn't show up for work? Shizuo ignored them for now, clicking the little green answer button on his phone.

"Yeah?" He huffed out. The call was probably going to be Tom anyway, so he wouldn't need to read the messages, could just explain there and then that— That what? That he and Izaya had slept together? That his body had been so sated he had slept the day away? Heh. How was he even going to begin to explain something like that when he didn't really understand it himself? There was no way he would tell the truth, no, no, not about something like that. He couldn't. Ever. No. No. Never.

But the voice on the other end of the phone wasn't Tom, like Shizuo had been expecting, though he wasn't really sure if he was pleased about that or not.

"Mr Heiwajima," Shiki's voice was unmistakable, though Shizuo had only heard it once. It was powerful, it was commanding, it was— there was a tone in his voice that sounded familiar, some little lilt to it that Shizuo had heard in someone else's voice. He didn't reply to Shiki then, but just hummed out a little 'hm' in acknowledgement.

"You'll be pleased to know that the garbage men came just this morning," Shiki half chuckled on the other end, and Shizuo remembered the last time he had been at Shiki's place, and what he had said. The man on the other end paused for a moment, his voice a strange mix of seriousness and mirth and something else Shizuo couldn't place. "Why don't you call in and discuss whatever business you came to discuss the other night, hm?"

"Hn," Shizuo scoffed, glancing out the window briefly at the lights and the darkening streets. He needed answers more than ever now, after what had happened. Perhaps then he would be able to understand what was going on, would be able to set it all behind him and make the images on the front of his mind vanish. Perhaps it would be the opposite, and he wouldn't like the answers he was given, perhaps they would make him mad, make him angry. Either way he needed to know, he couldn't just— He didn't like being in the dark about this, about Izaya's fucking game. He didn't like not understanding his own feelings, he didn't like the fact that he was changing, that his whole nature was different because of that louse and he didn't know why. No. No. He needed answers, and Shiki was just the man to give them to him.

"I'll be there in an hour,"


	36. Chapter 36: Liquid Gold

**Author's Note: **I want to start by saying how much I love each and every one of you. This story has (practically) 200 reviews and 23,433 hits. Just wow, that's amazing. I'm really glad you're all enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it, really. KIWI LOVES YOU ALL.

Just a little update tonight, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. This is kind of the start of the turning point, maybe, I don't really know myself. But... I look forward to your reviews as usual~ Maybe tell me what you think will happen next?

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><p>The loft was dark, surrounding Izaya Orihara in dim lighting broken only by the glow of his computer screen and the soft twinkle of the city humming to life outside of the window behind him. It was funny how much of his life was spent in the dark, he mused, bitterly, lovingly. The underworld of the city, the underbelly, filled with its gangs and its low life and beastly creatures; that was his home. He thrived there, in the dark and the dim and the damp. Funny though, that he had always shunned the light, funny, funny, it really was. He was dark and he was cold, and it was his home, lurking in the shadows and the underworld, that was where he belonged. It was comforting though, it was calming, allowed him to think without distraction, to think things clearly and seriously. He liked the dark, he really did, and after the events of that morning, Izaya had a lot to be thinking about.<p>

He had arrived back at his Shinjuku loft that morning, barely over an hour after he and the beast had— and he hadn't left at all for the rest of the day, despite having meant to go out into the streets for work. Namie had been sat at her desk when he had torn himself through the door, and he had commanded her to leave and not to return until he said otherwise. She had been wearing that look, the one that Izaya fucking hated. She wasn't stupid, foolish yes, pathetic, even more so, but not stupid. Izaya didn't need that; Izaya didn't want to see her face. He had stood in the doorway until she had left, wearing an expression that was a fabulous combination of loathing for his very being and something that Izaya didn't like the look of, like she could see that her boss, the cold Izaya Orihara, was coming apart at the seams. Well that was just fine, he didn't like her either, and he didn't— Stupid human, stupid, stupid, stupid.

But now the sunlight had slipped away, hours ago, though Izaya hadn't moved to turn on any of the lighting his apartment had to offer, in fact he hadn't even moved from the seat at his desk. His legs were tucked up underneath him, in that same little crossed legged way that he had used to do as a child, and he could feel the droplets of water from his hair skimming down his skin every now and then. The raven locks were still wet from the last shower he had taken just a short while ago; he'd lost count of how many times he had even showered that day in some urge to make that unclean feeling go away, to make himself stop feeling so dirty, so filthy, so— Izaya hadn't bothered to dress, just tugging on some underwear and one of those old red t-shirts that he had been so fond of in the past. The showers, however many of them, had certainly cleaned his body, had made it sleek and shiny and all the rest, but it hadn't made him feel better, it hadn't rubbed away the dirt in his soul, in his head, and he could feel it, all over him, everywhere.

He wasn't used to feeling like this. He didn't like it. What was this feeling? Something that felt like guilt or shame or something like that, but no, no, he knew better than that. Izaya didn't feel guilt; he had no shame, because how could he feel either of those? He didn't feel, he couldn't, he didn't have a heart to feel things with, and there was just a hole in his chest, just a pit where nothing beat anymore. No. No. He wasn't used to feeling like this at all. Shizuo and he, they were meant to hate, there was no way that he could feel anything other than pity for him, anything other than disgust at what had happened. That was how things were meant to work, it was, and yet the pang of emotion in the depths of himself said otherwise. He had changed from the man he had been before this game, he knew that, he was shifting, morphing, evolving into someone that scared him. It was as if he was heading backwards, towards the naïve little boy he had used to be before he had met Shiki, before he had been taught that love was monstrous.

Shinozuka Heikichi. The one who had come along and changed everything. The profile of that man was open on the screen of Izaya's computer, and it had been for the entirety of the day, even when Izaya had skipped out to shower again, to scorch the non-existent dirt from his slim form and tingling skin. There was something comforting about the action, something calming about looking at the thing that had started it all. Shinozuka, ha, the man who had managed to make the great Izaya Orihara fall in love. Izaya guessed that it was obvious now, just why Shinozuka had interested him so much. He was Shizuo, and the monster had always been fascinating to Izaya, had always been the one exception to every rule. Shizuo Heiwajima, the monster of Ikebukuro, Izaya's glorified plaything. He never acted like Izaya thought, and neither had Shinozuka, it should have been obvious, and yet he had become so tangled up in talking with him that he had simply not noticed. What did that mean?

Really, what did it mean? Was it possible for him and Shizuo to get on, to not fight and poke and prod and try to kill each other? Izaya had wondered that before, because there was something about Shizuo that he had noticed even when they had been young, that they were the type of people who would either be the greatest of enemies or the most passionate of friends. The brute was stubborn, Izaya knew that, he would never consider it, and yet surely the blonde had realised the shift in their relationship after this, after that morning? Surely the oaf realised that they couldn't simply go on the way they had before? Izaya knew they couldn't, but Izaya didn't know what to make of the situation either. They'd proved they could get on, hadn't Shinozuka and Nakura loved each other? He had been himself, he had, and he knew that Shizuo didn't have it in him to pretend to be someone he wasn't. It had been him and Shizuo, talking, joking, _flirting_, just like they had never met all those years away. Like some kind of second chance, they had done it, proved that they could get on, they could be great, they could be—It was ridiculous, wasn't it? It was foolish to think he was considering easing up on the oaf, and yet Izaya wasn't laughing, he wasn't even smiling.

It seemed like Izaya's brain was on fire, trying to figure out what was supposed to happen, what he even felt anymore. There was no doubt that he was interested in playing with Shizuo, in finding out what made the man tick. There was no doubt that he loved Shinozuka, and that was Shizuo.

He didn't know what his next move was. He couldn't think anymore, couldn't see anything other than images and touches and hear groans and his own whines in his head. Over and over, liquid gold flashed in the front of his mind. This morning, he could still taste it, feel it all, that mouth, that skin burning against his, so supple, that gentle touch. Ha, ha. Shizuo's hands, his fingers, Izaya could still feel them, trailing and lingering like a bad ghost on his body, hot and scorching bright, just like his eyes—

There was no use in sidestepping it anymore. Izaya never had been a man to sugar-coat things. He had allowed himself to fall in love with Shizuo Heiwajima, the man he loved to hate, and the man who hated him in turn with all his worth. He had fallen spectacularly, in love, despite it all. He had. He hated that he had. Was that why he felt so dirty, so—

And yet—

Izaya had always hidden in the dark. It was comforting and it was safe. Izaya had always been drawn towards the light, just like Shinozuka, just like Shizuo's eyes. His eyes— those eyes—

Liquid gold.


	37. Chapter 37: Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

**Author's Note: **Chapter 1 of my new Shizuo/Izaya fic has now been posted. Maybe you guys want to go and have a read and see if you like it so far~? I have quite a few more fics in the works at the minute. They're all planned, just need to get around to writing them all, welp. /keels over/

The next chapter is going to be a big turning point, I promise. You guys are going to love it, because even I love it. It might be up later, we'll see if I can tweak it to my satisfaction in time. /shot/

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><p>Shizuo seemed to spend a lot of time out and about in the city at night lately. The buildings always seemed to be lit up, twinkling with life and people going about their daily lives, routines, same old, same old. He'd had a lot of time to think on the way over here, to Shiki's place, in the darkest corner of the city, after all it wasn't exactly a quick walk from his place to here, and wondering in the dark had helped to clear his mind a little, enough to wonder whether he was doing the right thing. Everything said that he should simply forget this whole thing. He should just go back to hating Izaya as he had done before, and pretend that he had never signed up to that site in the first place. Those difficult feelings for the man he had spoken to over the internet would disappear eventually. He should have done that, and yet he didn't think he could just go back and pretend nothing had happened, especially after what had happened with him and with Izaya earlier.<p>

"Ah, Mr Heiwajima," Shiki greeted the blonde with a smile, spotting him in the doorway where he had been ushered in; but the older man didn't rise from where he was sat, reclined on the sofa at the end of the room like a tom cat surveying a mouse that has wondered into its den. He raised one hand to gesture towards the other sofa, in soft red, which lay opposite his own, an indication that Shizuo should sit and make himself comfortable. "Can I get you anything to drink? We had some fine whiskey delivered this morning,"

Shizuo paused for a second in the doorway before responding with a curt shake of his head, making his way gruffly across the room to sit in the very place that Shiki had pointed out. Drinking wouldn't solve anything; it wouldn't make the problems go away. That was the coward's way out, and Shizuo Heiwajima wasn't a coward. Well, maybe he was just a little. Wasn't he trying to run from his feelings now? Was this some big sign that he should just stop fighting for once? He didn't fighting after all. And yet—

"So, what can I do for you Mr Heiwajima?" Shiki questioned after a short pause, staring the blond down. "Obviously our business was—" Shiki paused to laugh dryly here, "— interrupted last time,"

Yeah, yeah, Shizuo remembered. He wasn't about to forget the flea stumbling over to him, stinking of alcohol and all sweaty and grinding out that irritating nickname in that smug tone of voice. He wasn't going to forget that the flea had interrupted his search for answers. He wasn't going to forget that he had taken a moment to drawn his eyes over the louse's form, raking in the new attire he had been wearing before remembering who he was, and that he shouldn't be doing things like that. No. No.

"You're here about Izaya Orihara, right?" Shiki didn't question that. He stated it with all the confidence in the world and those words, that tight tone left no room for argument. Apparently Shizuo was more see-through than he liked to think. Was that why the flea always bothered him, because he wore his emotions on his face for all to see? Shizuo's brown crinkled into a frown, and the fists that had rested on the crook of his knees tightened. He was, yeah, he couldn't deny that, but everything seemed to have abandoned him, and he didn't know what he was supposed to ask. Suddenly his feet seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world.

In fact, now that he was here and thinking about it, he didn't really know what it was that he wanted to know. He just knew that he needed someone to tell him something, and then maybe he could figure out what he was meant to do to move forward. He needed to know what had become of his relationship with the louse. If it was true that Izaya had fallen for him in the guise of his online name, then that made going back to square one hard, especially when Shizuo was fighting feelings of his own. Maybe it wasn't even that he needed to know, maybe all he wanted was for someone else to tell him what he was feeling.

"I see he still hasn't shaken that old habit of his," Shiki commented, with a laugh, dark and low. Shizuo looked up at that, his brow still furrowed, though now at Shiki's words and not just his own thoughts, his own motives. The older man was watching him intently, with a gaze that Shizuo had a hard time matching. Shiki said nothing else, and Shizuo didn't know what he was expected to reply with. Shizuo merely let out some kind of 'hn' in response, hoping that would be enough acknowledgement and Shiki would continue to talk. This was a bad idea; it was, who cared what—

"Your neck," Shiki cut in, when Shizuo didn't reply with anything more. His eyebrow was cocked now, as if the dark bruises that had formed on the blonde's neck had been obvious. Shizuo seemed to realise just how exposed they were at Shiki's words, just what the older man really had been getting at, because his hand flew up to tug the collar of his shirt higher. His skin tingled.

"I certainly recognise Izaya's handiwork when I see it, Mr Heiwajima. So now I'm curious as to just how you came by all those little marks," The older man continued, and Shizuo didn't know what to say to that. How was he supposed to act when Shiki had so clearly seen through what he had tried to deny, when Shiki had realised what had transpired between him and that fucking louse? He could feel irritation building under his skin, but it was joined quickly by a flush of embarrassment, a little pinch of shame, and it made him decide that yeah, yeah, this had been a bad idea and maybe he shouldn't have come after all. He stood up, hard and straight, half turned towards the door in a sudden flurry of ten or twelve quick steps towards the exit.

"Stop," Shiki called across the room, the mirth in his voice plain for Shizuo to hear. He still stopped though, despite the growing annoyance he could feel. He realised it wouldn't do to try and toss Shiki across the room in his own place, but Shizuo also knew that his self-restraint was wearing thin, and that it wouldn't be long before something was sent flying through the air.

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's working," Shizuo ground out, fists clenching and unclenching in turn. The mention of what had happened, he didn't— it was something that he didn't want others to know about, something that he didn't really want to know about. The thought of him and the louse doing what they had done, it was— he didn't know what it was. It should piss him off, should sicken him. Partly it did, but Shizuo wasn't a liar, and he couldn't deny the way his skin tingled to remember that mouth and that skin. He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed it, more than he could remember enjoying anything else. Heh. Heh.

"I can assure you that was not my intention," came the reply, and Shizuo stiffened, but didn't make to move towards the door anymore. Then again, he didn't make to move back towards Shiki either. Just stuck in the middle, lost in a sea of indecision, just waiting for something, or someone, to tell him what to do, that was Shizuo. There was a pause, a quiet stretch of time in which tension seemed to hang in the air like something tangible, as if it were so thick that Shizuo could have strangled it.

"I'm guessing you came wanting to know about Izaya or something like that, because you don't know what to do now," Shiki continued, and Shizuo's jaw tightened. Was he always so open, always so easy to read, or did Shiki just have a gift for doing so? It was infuriating, like the man was just crashing through everything Shizuo had thrown up to hide behind.

"You know the bastard best. After all, you were that asshole that made him the way he is now," the blonde huffed, not denying Shiki's assumption, gruffly with a scoff that Shiki found humorous. Shiki wasn't sure if Shizuo spotted the bitterness in his own tone or not. It was funny, really.

The whole situation was amusing to Shiki, really it was. He had always found it easy to read Izaya's emotions, and when he had brought the scrawny youth back here, drunk, the other night, spewing up curses and insults about a man he knew, Shiki had found it even easier. He had seen the signs in Izaya, that his heart had started to melt, and that there was someone who had started to thaw him out after he had watched the raven headed boy close himself up. Shiki hadn't expected Shizuo to be that man, but as the blonde stood here now, it seemed obvious, even if he was pretty sure neither of them had realised who the other really was. But it worked, or so he mused with _that_ smile; they'd both seen the very worst of each other, so whatever they showed now would only get better. It was better to know the horrid, sorrowful details of one's lover before anything serious happened, before they became tangled up in everything. Ha. And here the two of them were, dancing around something that was so obvious to him. Yeah, Shiki probably did know Izaya best, but right now, he was pretty sure he understood Shizuo damn fucking well too.

"Guilty," Shiki agreed with a shrug and a little nod of his head, "But that wasn't my intention either. I never meant for him to end up like he did, but I can't change the past or take back what I did. Even if I could, I'm not sure that I would,"

"So you don't regret that what you did created a bastard like him?" Shizuo shot back, and now it was hard to hide the lacing of anger, of rage, that ghosted his words. Shiki didn't flinch though. He'd seen worse, and he knew that Shizuo could at least refrain from tossing anything at him or in general until he had left. He guessed his reputation, the fact that this was his home and not Shizuo's that he had to thank for that, or maybe it was because Shiki realised that under it all, Shizuo Heiwajima really did have a good heart in him. "Do you not feel guilty that every shitty thing he's done, every fucked up game he played, every life he ruined, is all your fault?"

"Somewhat," the elder man admitted with a sigh, low and short, one that seemed to show the strains of his age, the things and dangers that he had lived through in his life so far. "But it's hard to condemn someone you care for, even if they have done some bad things,"

"He fucking deserves it," The blonde brusquely responded, in a low curl of his words that sounded like some kind of growl, the snarl of some old tiger, fierce to the last second. "How can you care for someone like that?"

"Why don't you ask yourself, Mr Heiwajima? Isn't that why you came here, because you want to know if caring for Izaya is worth it or not?" Shiki replied, blinking. Shizuo froze, and everything tightened. Was that what— no, no, no, he couldn't, he— Nakura and Izaya weren't the same people, they just— no.

"I'll admit that this Izaya is hard to like, even I find he grates on my nerves sometimes," Shiki continued, swiftly before Shizuo could get another word in or allow his anger to really flip out. He sounded bored now, as if this whole thing was obvious and that really, Shizuo hadn't needed to come all this way to hear it. "But the real one is still there, I've seen him, and I promise you that he is worth it all, Mr Heiwajima. Does that answer your questions?"

Shizuo didn't reply to that, he just scoffed, pushed his glasses further up his nose and headed through the door that he knew would lead him back out to the streets. He was only halfway out of the door by the time he was reaching for his cigarettes and lighter, needing that fix, needing to stop these racing thoughts and the shaking of his hands. The little thing was tucked between his lips when he left, stepping out into the cool night air. He'd barely made it a dozen steps before he had dropped his lighter into his pocket again without lighting the cigarette and turned instead to rip something from the wall beside him, watching it with satisfaction as it flew across the road to crash on the other street. That was swiftly followed by another thing and another, objects and whatever, Shizuo didn't care what, as long as he could toss it, watch it crash and break and crumble.

Suddenly, that cigarette didn't seem quite so appealing, and all he felt was sick to his stomach. He let it fall from his lips, crushing it with the ball of his shoe before walking on, leaving it in the past, behind him, in the dirt and the dark. Maybe it was denial still, or maybe it was the fact that Shiki had managed to see right through him. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He hadn't really asked anything, but it seemed like everything he had been wanting to know, or near enough, had been answered. Shiki said it was worth it, and maybe, maybe, maybe it was.

Heh. Why was he thinking things like that?

What an idiot he really was.

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><p>It took him a long time to get back to his place. Somewhere he had taken some kind of detour, lost himself and ended up in the hotel district near the station with its flashing lights and staff waiting to greet those who entered to stay or drop by for drinks at the bar. He hadn't even really been thinking, which really, really, really, had been a good thing he guessed. He had been thinking too much lately, considering things that just weren't plausible about him and that louse, but then— after what they had done, well all the rules were broken now, weren't they?<p>

The same damn light was flickering when he headed up the stairs to his apartment, on the third floor, Room 303, next to that dear little old lady with a fondness for apple pie and cookies in the summer. He could hear the sound of his footsteps echoing along the halls, he could hear the sound of the door hinges of his room creaking when he slipped the key in and pushed it open and entered. He could hear every fucking thing, something that sounded like the rustle of clothes that weren't his; he caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, and flipped on the switch to flood the main room with light but not before that smooth, sly voice curled into his ear like smoke.

"Welcome home, Shizu-chan,"

Yeah, maybe, maybe, maybe.


	38. Chapter 38: Madness

**Author's Note: **Well, it's still an hour before New Year here, but I hope you all have a great New Year and that 2012 brings you lots of luck! Consider this my little present to all of you~.

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><p>Izaya was good at what he did, information broking, that sort of thing. He was good at being able to find out everything about someone from just their name; their favourite foods, where they lived, their family life and work schedule, the clubs they'd been in at school, the colour of their first bike and all sorts of other things. It was his job, and he was good at his job. It was what he lived for, what he loved. His humans, their lives.<p>

His legs were still curled up underneath him in the cool confines of his office chair. His hair had mostly dried by now, but Izaya still hadn't really bothered to dress. One hand had reached out to claim the mouse connected to the computer, his eyes, framed once again by those thick rimmed glasses, glued to screen in front of him.

He had returned to Shizuo's past again, delving into his life once more. It had been years since he had last done so, and there was some new urge to revisit it, some new feel about it. He guessed when people started to question their true feelings for someone; finding out all about them was a must. He had of course looked into Shizuo's past before. What sort of person would he be if he hadn't? The man was a monster, and even monsters had stories of their own. He had done so as soon as he had first encountered the brute, all those years ago when the two of them were still in school, on that fateful day in which Shinra had introduced them. Izaya had often wondered what would have happened if that little meeting had never taken place. It wouldn't have changed who he came to be, but would it have changed Shizuo? He guessed the blonde would have a lot less stress in his life if Izaya wasn't in it, but that didn't mean that the raven had ever considered leaving it. No. No. Shizuo was his plaything, and now Shizuo was his—

Most of what he found, he had already known, had remembered from before. It had all been easy enough to find too, online articles and records from his old schools and doctors. There had been no need for Izaya to call any of his contacts to do some digging, no, not when Shizuo's life was so honest and open. Ha, ha, it was so different to his. Light and dark, hot and cold.

He knew about Kasuka, obviously, and that he had been related to Shizuo, who he really was behind the stage name lumped upon him due to his acting career. Izaya had stumbled across that again tonight, digging up some photo of the younger Heiwajima when he had been signed by his agent. He couldn't fail to spot Shizuo in the background, lingering awkwardly with a figure that could only be his father. He couldn't fail to spot the look on Shizuo's face at the notion of his brother going away. It was funny that now, such a heartbroken look seemed to make Izaya feel— _something_ for the blonde. He already knew that Shizuo had gone through a series of pathetic jobs after leaving school before Tom had hired him, because he had caused the man to be fired from most of them.

But then there were things that even he had never really known, because he'd never really looked that deep. Maybe he'd never cared enough to know before, but now it seemed like these things were just what he was looking for, they were just what he needed to— to do what? He could only see a handful of options here, and all of them were just out of the question, they were—

He hadn't known that Shizuo had been in and out of hospital as a kid. It wasn't hard to dig out the old medical records once he had found that out. Broken bones and fractured ones too, time and time again, just a normal kid struggling to keep up with an abnormal gift. He found a little clipping from some elementary school paper about Shizuo, something to do with winning some kind of little class art contest when he had been seven or eight or so. There was a photo attached of Shizuo at that age; His hair was still brown, its natural colouring, and he was grinning in a way that Izaya had never seen him smile before. The picture in question was held up beside him, and Izaya couldn't help but find the mess of colour and paint and lines hopelessly endearing.

He'd never bothered with all the niceties of Shizuo before, and now that he had— Ha. Ha. What an idiot he was, thinking things like that. An idiot, such an idiot to allow himself to fall in love. No. No. He hadn't known what had possessed him to go digging into all the little good points of the monster's past, he couldn't even hope to explain it, but he guessed the same thing that had motivated that was what pushed him out of his chair and made him dress and leave the apartment with the computer still on and head for an address he already knew.

Ikebukuro, Room 303, third floor.

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><p><em>"Welcome home, Shizu-chan,"<em>

It was madness that he was here, really it was. It was madness that Izaya Orihara had come here, to the home of Shizuo Heiwajima. It was madness, it was crazy, but then most of Izaya's life lately had been just the same, just as uncontrolled and terrifying, so what difference would this make?

Izaya had expected the anger from the blonde to break out. This wasn't Shiki's place anymore, so there really was nothing to hold him back. His lips quirked up when the brute's hands closed around the potted plant in the corner, just by the door, to toss across the room towards his head. How long had it been since he had seen this side of Shizuo? The familiarity was soothing; it was reassuring to find that not everything had changed, even if it was going to soon. It was easy to side-step of course, Shizuo's rage acted against him, the tight space of the apartment, the fact that he really had liked that damn plant.

"There's the Shizu-chan I know," he chuckled out, and Shizuo remained across the room, positively seething. Izaya guessed the only thing holding him back was that it was his apartment, and somewhere, deep inside all of that anger, he knew that, knew that if he trashed the place then it would only end up worse for him than it would for Izaya. The informant knew how he worked, he could see all of the cogs working behind Shizuo's twitching temples, in that thick skull of his.

He had been in the apartment when Shizuo had returned, leaning against the back of Shizuo's sofa, staring hard at the door. It had been easy enough to get in, the lock on the door really was appalling, and Izaya half wondered if he should call the landlord on Shizuo's behalf to get it fixed. It hadn't taken him long to work his way in, it had taken him even less time to snoop around the place properly. The last time he had been here, he'd been _otherwise engaged_ and hadn't had the chance. Shizuo didn't really keep a lot of stuff, he had soon found out, just books or plants or enough clothes to cover an army, a fridge full of milk and bread that was out of date, cupboards full of sweets and packets of green tea. He spotted the remains of a computer by the bin in the kitchen, obviously still waiting to be taking out. The poor thing had been destroyed, smashed to pieces, and Izaya had laughed, bitterly, realising that had explained just what Shizuo had thought of the truth behind Nakura. The notion was so delightful angry, it was such a suitable reaction for the brute. Yeah, yeah, Izaya had laughed.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Doing here?" Izaya finished, cutting across Shizuo with the rest of his question. He laughed again, that same laugh that Shizuo hated; that same laugh that was now tinged with bitterness and all sorts of emotion that Izaya didn't like nor want to acknowledge. He shrugged now, raising one shoulder lazily before letting it drop. Shizuo had taken a warning step closer, and Izaya could see the anger boiling on his face, the way his fists were shaking. But he'd not done anything more to Izaya yet. It was obvious that he had been just as affected by this, whatever it was, as Izaya had. Obvious that he had— it was fascinating, positively captivating! Marvellous! Wonderful! My, my what a game this had turned out to be, what a fucking _fabulous_ game.

"Have you suddenly lost the ability to talk nicely, _Shinozuka_?" He responded after a pause, still laughing, delighted, bitter.

Shizuo growled at that, a low rumble that sent tingles down Izaya, straight to his crotch, though he knew it shouldn't, and something else was quickly tossed towards him. Another dodge saw the object crashing into the floor, and on glancing after it quickly, he saw that it was the telephone, socket and plug ripped clean from the wall. He couldn't help but chuckle, he really couldn't. Shizuo always had been fascinating, he always had been different, extraordinary compared to his humans. Like a plaything, like some high-tech puppet, yeah, yeah, he was positively mesmerizing. He was like some two-sided coin. He really was. He had the ability to be like this, the beast of Ikebukuro, and yet hadn't Izaya seen for himself just who he really was?

The look on Shizuo's face promised death, and yeah, yeah, Izaya had changed, but he hadn't changed so much that he was going to risk harm to himself just to end this game, to put a stop to it once and for all. What a marvellous game this had truly turned out to be, ha, ha. Izaya had never seen it take this turn when he had started it, had never expected this to be the end result. He had never expected him giving up to be the way it ended. The blonde growled out his question again, lower than before, laced with danger that Izaya was quick to notice.

"I'm an information broker, Shizu-chan, I am the embodiment of the information I choose to accept," Izaya breathed out with a sigh. Shizuo's forehead had crinkled in a frown, his lips turned down, scowling. Izaya could still see his fists shaking, could still see him trying to fight that anger, that curse of his, if only to save his apartment and not actually for his sake.

Why was he here? That was the killer question, wasn't it? Izaya himself didn't really know. Love is a monster, it really fucking is, and it makes people do stupid things, just because. It was only a matter of time before one of them had fallen, and Izaya supposed that he had been the first, he supposed that was why he was here. Because he hadn't seen many ways out of the mess he had landed in, he hadn't seen many ways to stop his game and make his feelings go away. The only way to make a temptation go away is to yield to it, hadn't that been his philosophy all these years? Yeah. Yeah.

"When I first found out that you were Shinozuka, when you were the guy on the end of my string, I didn't want to admit that it was true. When I felt that I was falling in— I felt disgusted, and even more so when I found out that he was actually _you_," Izaya broke off with a laugh, dark and on the edge, borderline on something dangerous, some pang of emotion. Shizuo's jaw seemed to have tightened, and his back had turned ridged, stiff, like he had just become frozen in place, captured by the words that Izaya could feel tumbling from his lips with little control, reckless abandon.

"But maybe I realised that running away wasn't going to work anymore. And when I admitted that, everything seemed to be... Courage is doing what you're scared to do or so Shiki always fucking says. The proof of that is that I'm here and not hauling my ass out of the city." He laughed again, bitter and genuine, the sound echoing around the two of them in the apartment, air thick with tension, as tangible as fog and smoke, choking them, cloaking them, hiding everything.

"You've always fascinated me Shizuo, always. I often wondered what it would be like it we had been friends or why you chose to hate me. You don't scare me, that's another reason why I'm still here," Another lazy shrug, a hitch of Shizuo's breath, the click of his knuckles as his fists uncurled. Izaya had reached into the pocket of his jacket, to reach at his flick knife, feeling a certain amount of calm swallow him up as he thumbed the cold metal with the pad of his skin. He smirked then, like always, always, always, but didn't really feel it, though his lips quirked up at the sides. It was madness that he was here, really it was. It was madness that Izaya Orihara had come here, to the home of Shizuo Heiwajima. It was madness, it was crazy, but then most of Izaya's life lately had been just the same, just as uncontrolled and terrifying, so what difference would this make?

_Madness, madness, madness._

He pushed himself away from the back of the sofa, taking a step closer to Shizuo in the process. He could hear the jitters and the hitch in the other man's breathing, though what was the cause of that Izaya didn't know, he didn't. Shizuo was tall, but Izaya hadn't really realised just how tall until he stood here, in the quiet room, on the edge of toppling off of the world as he knew it, into some abyss that he wasn't ready for, but leaping into head first all the same. He could only hope he'd land on his feet, make it out the other side.

"I feel something for you, Shizuo. Can you believe that?" Another laugh, low and dark. He was nearing the door now, the one that Shizuo had shut but left unlocked. The blonde didn't move when Izaya passed him, he remained frozen, stuck in place; his head locked looking out of the window. Izaya could see the shake in his hands, which had unfurled from tight fists.

"I don't quite know what yet, I haven't quite collected all of the information on it, but it's some strong emotion. I know what it's like to hate you, I love to hate you, but I don't think that's how I feel about you anymore." Izaya laughed, again, as he hovered by the door. It seemed so fucking funny that all he could was laugh at something that really wasn't humorous anymore, in any way. He was mad, really, he was. It was madness that he was here, really it was. It was madness that Izaya Orihara had come here, to the home of Shizuo Heiwajima. It was madness, it was crazy, but then most of Izaya's life lately had been just the same, just as uncontrolled and terrifying, so what difference would this make?

"So where does that leave us, Shizuo Heiwajima?"

Madness, madness, mad—


	39. Chapter 39: Get Out

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the lack of updates! I went back to college today – ended up skipping my last lesson, I am a model student right? – and I had to catch up on all my work that was due in today. Hopefully updates will be back to normal now at any rate.

A couple people have asked if this story is nearly over now, and honestly, I don't really know~. It's probably going to get to at least 50 chapters, but after that, who can say? I've got a vague plot still lined out, but no detailed plan, so it could well be another 10 chapters, or it could be more or less than that.

Reviews on this would also be lovely, where have you guys vanished off to? Kiwi misses 'ya~!

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><p>"<em>So where does that leave us, Shizuo Heiwajima?"<em>

_"Where does that leave us?"_

"—leave us?"

Echoing, echoing, and echoing, again, again, again.

"_I feel something for you, Shizuo. Can you believe that?"_

Shizuo was pretty sure that was hate. It had to be, because that was just what they did, because that was what Izaya and he did, they hated, like it was what they were born to do. That was just how the world worked. Yeah, Izaya felt something for him, but that didn't mean— didn't meant what he thought it could. And yet— And yet—

"_I know what it's like to hate you—"_

"—but I don't think that's how I feel about you anymore."

Shizuo felt numb. Cold. Silent as the night. It was as if his body had merely frozen in place, as if his limbs and his bones and all the little joints had just locked up, stiff, like some kind of machine in need of a good oiling or three. Izaya had said anything more, letting the question hang in the air like a bad reminder, like an angry ghost. He hadn't said anything, but that didn't mean that Shizuo couldn't hear his voice anymore. No. No. The words were echoing, over and over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer, like some half buzzing headache that was flitting around under the tumbling blonde strands of Shizuo's hair.

Numb. That's what he was. It felt best. There's much to be said for feeling numb. Time passes more quickly. It lessens the pain, lessens the aches and dulls of whatever life is throwing at you. He was numb, like ice, save for the fire roaring through his blood.

He could hear everything. The sound of Izaya by the door, the louse's breath drawing in and out in quiet puffs, the rustle of his jacket and the impatient tap of his foot on the floor. He bet Izaya didn't even know he was doing it, some nervous tick. Tap, tap, tap. It echoed in his head too, mixing and twirling and twisting along with those horrid words. He could hear the hum of the light in the hallway outside, the faint mumble of sound next door from his elderly neighbour. He could hear everything, the sound of blood rushing to his eyes, his own heartbeat, but he couldn't hear any words in his head. He couldn't hear anything telling him what to do, what to say.

"_I often wondered what it would be like it we had been friends or why you chose to hate me."_

Yeah, yeah, Shizuo had often wondered that too. Of course he had wondered that, once, twice, when the anger had faded from a chase through the streets or late at night, staring up at the ceiling. Wasn't that when everyone did their deepest thinking? He had always hated Izaya, it was just a given, it was just the way things word. They had met, and Shizuo had simply decided there was something about the bastard that made him feel— of course Izaya had given Shizuo so many reasons to hate him now, so many that he would be hard pressed to pick just one. But he had never once considered the idea of them being friends, not after everything that had happened, not with the way that the louse made him feel. Angry, irritated, he sent tingles down his spine, sent his body crashing around the place on its own without Shizuo's control, breaking, destroying everything around it. Shizuo had never tried to question the natural order of things, not until tonight, in the dim light of his apartment, lit only with a cheap bulb in the ceiling.

Shizuo was many things, and despite what a lot of people assumed, he wasn't stupid, really, he wasn't. He couldn't deny that he and Izaya had managed to get along just fine when they had been unaware of the other's true name and face, he couldn't lie and say that had never happened. He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed talking to him, that he had opened up and that Nakura, no, no Izaya, had probably opened up too. He couldn't deny that the personality he had seen, the personality he had spoken with, had managed to make him feel things that he hadn't felt before. He couldn't lie about things that important, he wouldn't.

So just where did that leave them indeed?

"Get out," He muttered, a low and deadly growl that curled between his gritted teeth in warning, his spine shuddering in an almost mechanical manner as it seemed to creak back to life. He felt numb, like ice or something, something, something, but there was a tingling in his fingers, like waking up after a long sleep or time out in the cold. Izaya either didn't hear, or chose to ignore the words, for he didn't move from where he had stood himself, by the doorway, lingering on exiting. Shizuo bit out the words again, this time louder, this time darker, this time more angry. He could feel the irritation again, rising under his skin like it always did, rearing its ugly head once more.

"What if I were to tell you I love you, would that change nothing?" came the reply, low, muted, and Shizuo had the funny feeling he had heard those words before. That felt so long ago, a whole different time, a whole different place.

Would it change nothing? Shizuo wanted to say it would, that everything would remain exactly as it was, but he knew that wasn't true, it just wasn't. Everything would change; the whole world would crumble and give out from underneath his very feet.

"I'm not interested in playing your fucking game, bastard," the blonde hissed, and he turned now, eyes promising death to the man in black who stood in shadows by the door.

"Stop saying such fucking— get the fuck out of here, get the fuck out of Ikebukuro and get the fuck out of my life!" He was shouting. Who cared? He didn't. Numb. Numb. Those words were echoing in his head, over and over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like some half buzzing headache that was flitting around under the tumbling blonde strands of Shizuo's hair. Echoing, echoing, echoing…

* * *

><p>Izaya didn't move for a moment, and neither did Shizuo.<p>

The blonde was seething, his chest rising and falling and huffing out along with the anger, the rage that was boiling inside of his chest. It wouldn't be long before Shizuo was throwing things again, it wouldn't be long before Izaya was fleeing, like normal, just the natural order, just the way things worked. There was something so captivating about him like that, something so raw in the emotion and the power oozing from the monster, his monster. Izaya remembered their encounter, remembered the sweet little groans and moans that Shizuo had uttered into his ear in the throes of passion. He couldn't help but smirk, saluting the blonde as he slipped from the apartment and into the dim lighting of the hallway.

It was madness that he had even gone. Madness, madness, madness, absolute fucking madness. Shizuo would never accept that he could be friends with Izaya, let alone something different, something much more— He was stubborn, Izaya had always known that, had always exploited that. It shouldn't be surprising, it shouldn't.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Even Izaya Orihara could be wrong, and maybe, maybe, maybe he was now. Maybe he had learned by coming here that his biggest mistake wasn't falling in love, no, no, it wasn't even falling in love with Shizuo Heiwajima. No, no, it was for thinking that a monster like him could even think about loving Izaya too.

But no, no, who cared? Izaya didn't. He'd been, he'd admitted to that curse of love, that plague, had ended the infatuation, right? Right? This was good. It was good. It was how things were meant to work. It was just the natural order of things, just the way it always went. It had been madness to hope for anything more than that, madness to even want anything more than that.

How could a monster like him ever fall in love after all?

"_Get out,"  
>"Get out,"<em>

_"Get out,"_


	40. Chapter 40: Crumbling

**Author's Note:** I'm staying at my grandma's tonight, so this is up later than normal. I've not really had time to give it a thorough proof between talking to her and writing it, so **please forgive any little typos** just this once, please?

This one is for LoOrihara, for reminding me that some people out there love a bit of angst~.

* * *

><p>Izaya was used to being told 'no'. He was, all the time, really. No, I won't tell you where he went. No, I don't want to die. No, I don't love you. No. No. No. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He was used to it, he was. He was used to getting his own way too. He was used to turning those little no, no, no protests into cries of yes, yes, yes. He was used to twisting things, facts, people, places, whatever the fuck he wanted, to make sure that he got what he needed, what he wanted. That was the way his world worked, just the way things went, the natural order of things.<p>

He doubted this would be the case for him and for Shizuo and this fucked up tangle of emotion they'd gotten into though. No. No. No. It wouldn't be that easy, wouldn't be that quick or painless. Shizuo wasn't like his humans. He couldn't just flash a smile, charm him around his little finger, because no, no, no, Shizuo wasn't like his humans at all. The brute wasn't even human, he was a monster, an oaf, a really fucking hopeless-

Shizuo was stubborn too, just like Izaya. Ha. Ha. He was the one thing that Izaya could never predict, he was the one thing that remained oblivious to Izaya's charms, the one thing that remained untainted by his games and his influence. It was fascinating, really. He was still the same oaf, he always had been, always would be that same dumb brute that had decided to hate Izaya on that day of high school, all those years ago. Ha. Ha. No. No. No. There was no difference, that was just the way that Shizuo was.

Maybe that was why he was so appealing to Izaya, maybe it really was. He was so different, so uncontrollable, as calm as a hurricane, as cold as fire, as shifting as rock. Ha. Ha. Yeah. Yeah. Izaya guessed that was why Shizuo was so much fun, why he had always been drawn to him, why he had always wanted to play with the brute. His attention span was short, he knew that, it always had been, always would be. He got bored of people the more he knew them. Once he had exposed all of their secrets, once he had broken them down, they tired him, he hated them, wanted something new, something different. Shizuo gave him that, always. He didn't bend, didn't break, didn't change and yet he was changing all the time. So fascinating, enchanting. Shiki was another one like that. He never did what Izaya wanted either, never told him everything, not even when he had been some sweaty, whimpering naked boy squirming underneath him. No. No. No.

That man in question sat in front of him now, reclined like a tom cat on the sofa in Izaya's loft. The younger raven had fled back here after earlier, that confrontation, that hellish idea he had had. It was madness to go. It was- so why had it felt so right? No. No. It didn't matter. Nope. The loft was warm, lit by gold afternoon rays that wafted in through the window. Namie wasn't there. Izaya still hadn't called her back to work. He didn't want to do so. She'd lost her appeal, wasn't interesting anymore. No. No. Not like Shizuo. Izaya himself was sat on the opposite sofa, his cup of tea lifted to his mouth so he could sip at it. They were twisted into their normal smirk, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything, but Shiki was here, and he was going to keep his mask on. He wasn't going to be weak, pathetic, human. No. No. He wouldn't show that side of himself, not to this man, not to-

He wouldn't let the mask slip, not even like this, not even when he was this mad, this pissed this-

Disappointed? Ha. Ha.

Maybe, maybe, maybe-

"Well, now that we've dealt with business," Izaya purred, setting the cup down on the table and pushing himself up to stroll across to the other side of the loft. "I assume there is something else you're just dying to say to me,"

Shiki laughed from where he sat, setting his cup down too. He'd come to ask for some information, just usual stuff, rival gangs, their leaders, their business, yeah, yeah, shit like that. But he had noticed something was off with Izaya. He had known him too long to not see it, had been in his life for long enough to notice when he was faking that smile and that life. He was older, wiser, far from stupid or blind, but yeah, yeah, it was cute that Izaya was trying to fool him still, keeping his poker face on. It was cute, but Shiki could read it all too well, and he wasn't going to drop it this time. No. No. He was stubborn, just like Izaya, and he could see the old raven shining through, the one he had rescued from the streets. All he needed was some pulling and prodding to come back out again; that beautiful, charming, silly boy.

"You'd be right," Shiki agreed, laughing. Izaya had let his smirk fall now. "I was admiring your handiwork on Mr Heiwajima just the other day,"

Izaya laughed at that. He had too. Low. Dark. Bitter. "Don't tell me that you're jealous, Shiiiiki~chan?"

There was a pause, another dry chuckle from Shiki as he too pushed himself to his feet. His shoes echoed a little as he moved across the loft, over the floors, across the gulf towards the raven in the corner.

"No, no," He responded, brushing the comment off like it never happened. He wasn't going to let Izaya dig like that, no, no. "I'm concerned. Are you sure it's wise to play with a man like him?"

"Play?" Izaya scoffed, "Do you not believe that I may actually feel something for him? Ah, but that is not really your concern. You've never taken an interest in my games before,"

"Of course it's my concern when you end up hurt because of these fucking games,"

"Oh!" Izaya laughed, shrill, sarcastic. "Hurt? I don't see any injuries. Maybe it's your old eyes playing tricks on you, old man,"

No. No. No. Shiki couldn't do that. He couldn't. It wasn't fair for him to just stroll in and see through it all. Izaya hated it when he did that, he hated it when Shiki looked right through him, because whenever that happened, things started to undo, they rewound, and they crumbling, down, down, down and that wasn't what was supposed to happen here. No. No. No. Pathetic, human, damn. No. No.

"You always were stubborn," Shiki laughed. Izaya could hear him behind, just a step or two away. He didn't turn to look, he couldn't, wouldn't. No. No. He wasn't weak, he wasn't.

"Something happened, didn't it? You reached out, tried to do something like you would have in the old days, and he shot the idea down or said something that rubbed you the wrong way, and so now you're back here, hiding behind that mask as if nothing happened, as if it never affected you," Shiki spoke, this time it seemed that he wasn't going to let it go, he was going to follow through, to fight this until Izaya let his pride crumble and admitted it. It was some battle of wills now, and Izaya didn't think it was a fair fucking fight when his strength and his will and his everything was all worn down from this fucking love that bubbled in his chest. Love was a monster, and it was killing him, bit by bit.

"You don't know me anymore, Shiki," Izaya hissed, through his teeth, quiet, deadly. "So don't act like you have all the information here. You know _nothing. _You know-"

Izaya was cut off with Shiki's laugh, again. It riled him up, made his blood boil. He didn't like being angry, he hated it, it wasn't him. He was calm, he was rational, he thought things through and worked it all out so it worked his way. He didn't get mad. Fuck Shiki, fuck it all. Fucking Shizuo fucking Heiwajima. Yeah, yeah. He could say no to Izaya, that was fine, it was. Izaya had gotten it out of his system now, right? Right, right, right. Maybe, maybe, maybe that was all he needed. He didn't need Shizuo to love him, he didn't need Shinozuka to love him, he didn't need anyone to love him. No. No. He just needed his work, and his humans, and he just needed nameless, faceless men to take him home from the clubs and into their beds. That was his life. It had been mad to think otherwise.

Izaya felt numb. Numb and dizzy, spiralling out of control. Lower, lower, lower. Fuck Shizuo, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-

The raven turned before he was even aware of it to face Shiki, the older man, the old love, the man who had created him, fucked him, loved him. Ha. Ha. Still did love him. Izaya could see that, could see it in his face. There was a swing of his hips when he closed the distance between him, between Shiki. Yeah, yeah. Akabayshi had nothing on him. Fuck him, and fuck Shizuo. Who needed love, who needed a special someone? He didn't if it was like this. Shizuo didn't want him. Shiki did, right? Right. Right. And hey, hey, Izaya didn't want Shizuo either then, nope, no, no.

Maybe he really was mad. That would solve everything. It would explain this need to be needed, it would explain why he was thinking such crazy things, such horrid, nasty things. No. No.

His lips were on Shiki's before the older man could say another, his arms around his waist, skimming lower, lower, lower. There was a pause, a split second of frozen time where the other man did nothing.

But when Shiki pushed him away, when Shiki gave him _that _look, the mask crumbled, all that bravado he had been showing, all those lies he had tried to convince him, it all came crashing to his feet. It did, down, down, down like a house on fire, like one of his suicide victims, hurtling towards the floor. He could hear his own voice in his head, mixing with the groans of the monster in his ear. No. No. No. He couldn't lie to himself anymore, he couldn't. Everything was crashing down, the whole world crumbling. His legs gave out, knees hitting the cold floor with such force they were bound to be bruised tomorrow. His eyes welled up, leaking with hot tears, angry tears, and everything was crumbling, breaking, falling to pieces. He didn't like this, he fucking hated it all. He hated everything, everyone. Shizuo didn't want him, Shinozuka didn't want him, Shiki didn't want him. Izaya had tried to tell himself that didn't matter, but no, no, no, it really did. Because he wanted Shizuo, he wanted Shinozuka. The little voice in the back of his head told him that, whispering it quietly, telling him it was okay.

Ha. Ha. The great Izaya Orihara, on his knees, crying, clutching his sides as if they'd fall apart at the seems, throat raw and neck and hips decorated with bruises and hickeys from a fuck with a man he was supposed to hate. What was wrong with the world? Why did these sick, fucking feelings feel so damn right? What a game this had turned out to be, what a twisted, beautiful, glorious game.

The tears kept falling as he did, hating them, hating himself, wondering just how this whole thing came to be. This wasn't him, it wasn't, and yet- and yet-

It suddenly felt like he was years ago.


	41. Chapter 41: All Mad Here

**Author's Note: **This is a real kind of 'filler' chapter, I guess. I've got a killer headache so I'm all tucked up in bed and feeling a bit sorry for myself, but I wanted to at least update something today. I promise the next chapter will be longer than this and go into more depth with feelings and things. Quite possibly there'll probably be some kind of other turning point or something too~.

Well, until then, enjoy~.

* * *

><p>"I don't know," Tom's smooth voice cut through the air. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he walked, down one of the quieter streets in Ikebukuro.<p>

Shizuo was behind him, just a pace or two back. His hands were dipped into his pockets too, his head bowed towards the floor as Tom continued to talk. The other man, his boss, had been chatting for some time about the next client they were going to meet. No doubt it was some way for the dark headed man to make conversation or shake whatever gloom had been settled over the blonde from the moment they had met that morning. He had noticed that there was something wrong with his employee the moment Shizuo had opened the door. Tom had known him long enough to know when there was something off with him, to know when Shizuo's scowl was darker than normal, when he said even less than normal. Today was one of those days, and Tom knew better than to just ask him outright. Shizuo didn't deal well with blunt confrontation. Tom had learnt that, had learnt that it made the blonde uncomfortable and put him on the spot and activated some kind of fight or flight response that in Shizuo, was fight or fight.

"Something to do with a gambling habit I think, so he loaned some from me a year ago," his boss continued, now whistling out a low laugh. He raised a hand to the back of his head, lazily scratching it with slim fingers.

The blonde merely let out a little 'hn' in reply to which Tom smiled. Shizuo certainly hadn't been in a talking mood, not after what had transpired little before Tom had arrived to pick him up. There was no way that Shizuo could simply shake what the louse had said, not today at any rate. No. No.

The words hadn't stopped playing in his head, not once since he had left the apartment that morning, just an hour after the flea himself had left. _What if I were to tell you I loved you? Would that change nothing? _They were suffocating; they were drowning, pulling Shizuo under so that he could seem to escape them. He still wasn't sure what to make of them, those words, and had been focused on them since they'd reached his ears, all the way through the first five clients that Tom had taken him to see. They'd stopped for lunch too; Tom and he, in some little café that had served some of the best rice that he had tasted in quite a while. Shizuo had been quiet then too, thinking, thinking, thinking. Tom hadn't said anything much, just little conversations, small talk, and Shizuo was thankful for that, because he surely had noticed that there was something different about him. He was different. Everything was different.

Yeah, yeah, it would change everything, if Izaya said he loved him.

"I'm pretty sure he's good for this month's payment though, so try not to get pissed at him until after we've got the money," Tom chuckled, turning to throw a glance over his shoulder towards the blonde, grinning at him good-naturedly. Shizuo had to look up at that, offer a half laugh and a little crinkle of his own lips in reply. Tom was a good friend to him, he couldn't deny that, and he was grateful to the other man for trying to pull him from his thoughts, or— or—

Fuck this. Fuck everything. Why couldn't he stop thinking about it?

* * *

><p>Izaya hadn't been intending to run into the monster on his trip to Ikebukuro, not this time.<p>

The information broker had entered the streets to do just that, his work, the job that he loved. He had come to poke and prod and pull out all of the information that he had needed for the request Shiki had left him with. The older man had left his apartment not long ago, leaving when he had left. Izaya couldn't pretend that he wasn't crumbling down around himself, he couldn't pretend that he hadn't broken earlier, in front of the man he had once loved, once fucked, once been left broken hearted over. He couldn't,_ he_ _shouldn't_, but hey, hey, he was sure as hell going to try. Shiki had stayed until he had composed himself, until he had built the walls up again, higher and higher and higher than before. Shiki had tried to talk sense into the younger raven, but who can talk sense into someone who is coming undone, one little seam at a time?

But no, no, he hadn't been meaning to run into Shizuo. If anything, he had gone out of his way to avoid him, to avoid the blonde and any confrontation that would arise if the two clashed. Because things were different now, they really were. It wasn't like before. How could they fight and tease and chase knowing that they had spent one hot, sweaty encounter together? How could they do that knowing that they had come to, in some ways, care for the other? No. No. Things were different now. They were. Even if the oaf hadn't realised it fully yet, even if he hadn't accepted that yet, it was the truth. They'd shifted into some new natural order, some new foreign relationship that neither he nor Izaya would be able to pin down, to understand just yet. They were hardly friends, and yet— and yet they were no longer simple enemies. They didn't just hate each other anymore. No. No. No.

Izaya had stopped where he stood, in the centre of one little side-street, when he had spotted the blonde. His hands had stopped in their motion, had stopped swinging from side to side in favour of just hanging down, loose. His smirk had dropped, replaced with an expression as blank, as numb as what he felt inside. The monster had frozen when he had seen Izaya too. His whole form had gone ridged, his fists curling up tightly. Izaya watched his expression change, from that blank neutrality to annoyance to that pure hatred that Izaya was so used to seeing. When Shizuo looked at him like that, it was hard to imagine that anything had changed, it was hard to imagine that they had fucked, and that he had started to fall for the damn brute. Ha. Ha. Funny indeed.

The raven didn't flee like he normally did when Shizuo moved, the blonde's taut legs carrying him closer and closer to Izaya with that murderous look in his eyes. Izaya had heard the grunt of his name, the low string of curses that left the blonde's mouth, the growl, pure uncensored anger. Ha. Ha. Why was that so attracting right now, why was he feeling tingles at the sound of the oaf's voice calling his name. It was madness, he was mad. Funny indeed.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of Ikebukuro?" Shizuo hissed when the gap had closed, when he had stepped so close to Izaya that he could pick out the colour of his eyes or spot the little dusting of freckles. Izaya still didn't run then, not like he used to. He still didn't run when Shizuo's hand reached up to close around his throat, when those lithe fingers tightened just a little, enough for him to feel the pressure, but not enough for the stinging pain to arrive or the oxygen to stop coming to his lungs. He wasn't running, not this time, not anymore. Hadn't he told Shizuo that? Hadn't he said that he was tired of running, that it wasn't working anymore? He wasn't running, no, no. Love was a monster, but Izaya wasn't scared of it anymore, he was facing it, head on, staring it straight into its eyes, liquid gold.

"Do it," Izaya hissed out. His arms were still by his side, not rising to attempt to throw Shizuo off or wriggle out. The grip on his throat was loose enough that he could do so if he wanted, that he could run and run and run from the beast, lose him in the maze of streets and laugh all the way. But no, no, things were different now, they were, and that wasn't how things worked anymore.

Shizuo didn't say anything. He just growled, his chest rising and falling along with the erratic beating of his heart, the rage bubbling in him. Izaya let his lips twist into a smile, small, bitter.

"Do it," he repeated, "If you hate me that much, Shizuo, then kill me,"

There was a pause. Quiet. Tom had stopped down the street when Shizuo had left his side. He was watching them now, his hands still tucked into his pockets and an odd look on his face as he watched the pair of them. Most of the others had fled on spotting him, and spotting Shizuo in the same street, though Izaya could see a few now, still lingering, watching.

_"Stop saying such fucking— get the fuck out of here, get the fuck out of Ikebukuro and get the fuck out of my life!"_

_"What if I were to tell you I love you, would that change nothing?"_

"_Get out,"  
>"Get out,"<br>"Get out,"_

The words seemed to hang in the air around them both, echoing, echoing, echoing like some kind of ghost, some kind of bad memory or secret lullaby that only they could hear. Izaya was about to speak again, when the grip on his throat loosened, and the hand around it dropped. Shizuo's eyes dropped too, liquid gold turning to the floor, and then he was gone, walking away, turning his back on Izaya in all senses of the world.

It was madness, he was mad. But then maybe Shizuo was mad too. Maybe, in this funny little city, in the twisted streets of Ikebukuro, maybe here, they were all quite mad.

Ha. Ha. Funny indeed.


	42. Chapter 42: Head First

**Author's Note: **I just organised myself and created a more detailed plan for the rest of this story, and by that, I do mean from here right until the end. Welp. According to my plan, that's about 10 chapters away, but that could well be more or less in the end depending on what happens when I get around to typing up certain parts.

I still can't believe that there are so many of you reading this. Whenever I write something, it's always rewarding to know that people really like it. So thank you all from the very bottom of my fangirl heart~ even you ghost readers, I love you too!

* * *

><p>Some people say that elephants never forget. Izaya supposed he never forgot anything either.<p>

The whole thing played in his mind, the whole situation with Shizuo this afternoon, the whole little encounter, their meeting in the street, over and over and over in his head, like a broken record, a skipping CD. He could still feel Shizuo's hand around his neck, could still feel the pressure of those long fingers. He could still see that burning liquid gold gaze boring into him, could still see the anger and the irritation in those eyes, and something else, something— different that he couldn't quite place. But he'd stayed in Ikebukuro, even after the encounter with Shizuo, even after that little run-in the two of them had had. He'd been there for work after all, and despite how much he had changed, despite how much the whole thing had been affecting him, he wasn't about to just leave without what he came for. No. No. He wasn't that different. Not yet. He'd wondered through the alleys and met his contacts and checked out information hot spots until he'd had enough facts and figures and knowledge tucked away in his head to leave, back to Shinjuku, back to the safety and comfort of his loft, his kingdom, home.

The loft was warm when Izaya slipped in through the door that evening, with the sun slipping down once again, signalling the end of another day. The golden rays had done a marvellous job of heating the place, streaming in through the long windows, as had the heating which had clocked on at some point in the afternoon while he had been gone. It was quiet too, as Namie was still away; no doubt huffing and cussing him out back in her apartment due to the fact he hadn't called her back to work yet. There was a growing stack of paper on her desk though, despite her absence, something he had been adding to, expecting her to catch up with when he finally decided he could stand to put up with her sullen tone once again.

The information broker shed his jacket by the door, slouching it over the back of one of the sofas just a few paces away. He headed towards his desk then, dropping the little rose coloured box of ootoro he'd picked up from some place in Shinjuku onto the surface of it. He could still feel those fingers, long, warm like freshly baked bread or something of the like, curled around his skin, cold skin, cool skin, hard skin. It was as if Shizuo's hand had never left, as if his very presence had travelled with Izaya all around the city and back home again. Ha. Ha. He was mad, so very mad, to be thinking things like that. Who would have thought that Izaya Orihara, the great information broker of Tokyo would ever think things like this?

His computer hummed to life as he sat, dwelling and wallowing in these thoughts. His fingers were linked together, allowing his chin to rest on them while he waited for the machine to buzz to life. One of many mobile phones sat on the surface, and his fingers curled around it, deftly, bringing it to his ear and flipping it open. Izaya let his fingers scroll through the address book, killing time in finding a number that he already knew off by heart. Shiki's name flashed up on the screen, and he raised it to his ear, listening to the dial tone. The computer had booted up now, and Izaya sat there, staring at the start screen while he waited for the man on the other end of the phone to pick up.

Those fingers, on his neck, pressure, that gentle probing, warm like apple pie, like fresh bread. He could feel it, feel them, feel _him_, still, lingering.

"Izaya," came the greeting from the other end of the phone. Shiki seemed indifferent to his call, just like he always did. Izaya wondered if the whole thing earlier had even happened, if Shiki had even seen him, crying and breaking down, sobbing his black heart out like he had nothing else to lose. Izaya had tried to forget that had happened himself, but he hadn't expected Shiki to do the same. That wasn't like the man normally, and he couldn't help but wonder what the old devil was up to.

"I trust you found what I asked for," the older man added when Izaya didn't reply, and there was another little pause before the raven confirmed it. The sun had lowered a little more now, and lights were starting to flicker on once again, slowly, building by building, like some kind of electric Mexican wave. Izaya leant back in his chair, leaning into the soft, pressed leather and feeling the cool material press through the fabric of his t-shirt, black and thin. He allowed himself a little smile, pulling out all of those little niggling facts and figures and meaningless little things that he had discovered for Shiki that afternoon. Work had always been something that he loved, it had always been something that calmed him, which he could easily lose himself in when things got tough, when he went through patches of his life even he didn't like. Patches of his life like right now, with Shizuo and Shinozuka and all that-

Madness. It was just madness, it was.

There was another pause when Izaya had finished talking. He could hear Shiki breathing on the other line, could hear the rattle in the other man's breath and the soft hum of his computer on his end of the line. One hand reached out to pull the box of ootoro towards him, fingers deftly swooping in to claim a piece and bringing it to his mouth. The taste was melting over his taste buds when Shiki spoke again, quiet and low, through the little phone.

"How are you? Better?" There was something in his tone now that Izaya could hear, something he was sure hadn't been there before, some cruel edge perhaps, some cold indifference that he didn't like. Talking with Shiki didn't seem quite the same as it did before. Izaya wondered if that was because maybe, maybe, maybe he had stopped holding on to that old flame between them, had let go of their angry ghosts and found something, someone, new to focus on. Maybe he was just bitter. He didn't know, didn't care.

With something in the middle of a scoff and a laugh, Izaya hung up, and tossed the phone promptly back onto the table with a clatter. No. No. Something had changed. He wasn't sure when, just like he wasn't sure of when most things had changed now in his life, but the way he felt about Shiki had changed. Maybe it had been when he had broken down, and Shiki had done nothing really to help, had simply allowed him to wallow, on the basis he had said that Izaya had to learn to pick himself up. Ha. Ha. That had been what the older man had said, then he had just dropped the envelope with his information request on Izaya's desk and left. Just left as if Izaya hadn't tried to kiss him, as if he hadn't cried and sobbed and quite obviously fallen apart at the seams; well, well, that was fine. Izaya didn't need him now, he didn't—

His thoughts were strangely calm. Quiet and tranquil and more collected than they had been in days, in weeks even. He could still feel those fingers, warm and gentle, around his throat. He could still feel them, wrapped there, warmer than a winter scarf, strangely calming. Ha. Ha. Who would have thought he was capable of thinking these things indeed? He guessed anything was possible when he had managed to fall in love with a monster, when he had managed to even fall in love.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. The start screen of his computer still stayed up, open and ready, fully booted and awaiting his instruction, but Izaya merely stared, because he wasn't capable of thinking of anything else at that point. He'd always been guilty of overthinking things; it was one of his flaws, one of his strengths. It kept him safe, it meant he was never put in situations that— ha, ha, no, that was a lie wasn't it? He hadn't thought when he had seen Shizuo earlier, hadn't thought when he had gone to Shizuo's just the other day and look where that had got him. The whole thing played in his mind, that whole situation with Shizuo that afternoon, the whole little encounter, their meeting in the street, over and over and over in his head, like a broken record, a skipping CD. He could still see that burning liquid gold gaze boring into him, could still see the anger and the irritation in those eyes, and something else, something— different that he couldn't quite place.

Shizuo had walked away too. Shizuo hadn't attempted to send him flying across the city like he normally did; he hadn't torn up any kind of sign or bench or trash can or city fixture to throw at his head like normal. He hadn't even crushed Izaya's throat, taken his life away just like he always claimed to want when it was finally in his hands to do so. That meant something; Shizuo being able to walk away certainly meant something. Izaya just wasn't sure yet.

He still wasn't sure why he himself had acted as he did, not when his fight or flight reflex was pretty much set to flight. He wasn't sure why he had placed his life in danger, because he didn't want to die, not yet, not ever. And yet— and yet there had been something that had made him act that way, some little voice that had told him that maybe, maybe— no, no, something that had told him that it was okay. Something that said their relationship had shifted enough for him to be able to do that without ending up dead or with another Shizuo related injury like he'd had in his youth, that time a while ago when he had been scattered, mentally distracted, yeah, yeah.

Shizuo had changed. Izaya could see that now, he could. It was obvious, even if the monster didn't realise it himself. Izaya suddenly felt like he was the only one who truly understood, ha, ha, story of his life. Humans never understood their own feelings, neither did monsters. What did that mean for him, for Shizuo?

Izaya couldn't help the little smirk that tugged up at his lips as his thoughts developed, as each strand moved along from one little focus point to the next. His thoughts were on fire, his brain shooting through some many questions, so many possible outcomes, planning them, dismissing them, questioning everything. Shizuo had changed; he had, really, really and truly, and changed for the better. The fact that he could stand to be in Izaya presence with the raven practically giving him permission to do what he had always wanted to do and end up walking away with Izaya still in one piece; that meant something, something big. It did, it did, it did.

Shizuo didn't think he was being truthful - Shiki hadn't either - was that it? Was that why the blonde was being so- so what? Ha. Izaya guessed that was the case; he guessed that Shizuo wouldn't see this as anything else other than another one of his games. Shizuo had changed, the monster had changed, and that old leopard really had changed his spots. Well then, Izaya could change too, yeah, yeah, yeah. Izaya could do that, he could prove a point; he could show Shizuo how serious he was being. He was going to stop running, he had proven that already. Shizuo had changed, ha, ha, then so could he.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Perhaps it was time to do something different, play another sort of game, show Shizuo that he could be Nakura, that he wasn't just fucking around. It was funny, it was madness, that Izaya Orihara could be thinking things like this, feeling this like this, wasn't it? Mad, mad, it was absolutely mad.

Still smirking, Izaya promptly finished the rest of the sushi that had been in the box, turning his attention back to his computer and taking a hold of the mouse. Maybe paying Shizuo's rent for him for a few months would do the trick, maybe buying the brute another pot plant to replace the one that had been tossed at his head just the other day, maybe sending Kasuka an email to spend some damn time with his brother. Maybe, maybe, maybe; Izaya wasn't sure yet, but he had all the time in the world, little worry about money. He would show Shizuo, he would. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was funny, it was madness, that Izaya Orihara could be thinking things like this, feeling this like this, wasn't it? Mad, mad, it was absolutely mad. But it didn't mean that he cared, not anymore. He was too far gone to care now, too far gone to even change the course he had set on.

He was changing, everything was changing.

He was Izaya Orihara, but he wasn't the same man anymore.

No. No. No.

The world he knew was crumbling under him, giving out under his very feet, so what more could he do other than dive in head first? He'd prove he was being truthful; he'd do something to show that, he could and he would.

Izaya had crumbled, he'd broken down earlier, really, he had; but when the monster did things like that, leaving him without a scratch, when he gave Izaya such clear signs, such glimpses into his head, how could the raven not perk up? Shizuo felt something too, even if he hadn't owned up to it yet. The proof of that was that Izaya was alive and not in some crumbled heap in an Ikebukuro street. Yeah, yeah. All he needed was time, he'd managed to make Shizuo, the iron man, the beast, the monster fall in love with Nakura; it was only a matter of time before Shizuo accepted the other part of him too.

Izaya would make sure of that.


	43. Chapter 43: Can't Forget

**Author's Note: **I'm not actually sure if Tom and Kadota/Saburo know each other.. but considering that Tom and Shizuo went to school together (apparently) and Kadota and Shizuo went to school together, I would guess that it's likely they might. Not that it's a really big part of the chapter/story in general, but.

* * *

><p>It's hard to accept, but you can't change the past, or so Shizuo's grandmother had once told him, years and years ago. He'd only been little when she had died, but he remembered her, briefly, he remembered her telling him this, as if she had always known that he would be destined for great things, for something special, as if she had known these words would come back throughout his life to help him. You can't go back and manipulate things to the way you wanted them to happen, she had also said, because then life would be meaningless, life would be boring and you just can't do that. You have to learn to live with your mistakes. Yes, you will make mistakes. And yes, you will have bad days, but you can't get hung on the little things, can't get caught up with all the meaningless words: could have, would have, should have.<p>

Shizuo should have crushed the flea's neck when he had closed his fingers around it. He should.

He could still feel the cool skin under the length of his fingers, he could still feel the quiet thrumming of the louse's pulse in his neck, he could still feel his fingers, curled around it, warm against cold. He should have done it, should have carried on pressing, carried on and followed through with what he always had wanted to do. Izaya dead would be a wonderful thing for Ikebukuro and a whole number of people, yeah, yeah, it would; but he had still be unable to do it. He hadn't been able to follow through and kill, kill, kill that fucking louse even when he'd put up no fight, even when he'd told Shizuo to do it. Was that it? Was that why? Because Izaya hadn't fought like normal? Shizuo didn't like violence, didn't attack anyone who didn't provoke him or damn well deserved it, but the flea had always been an exception to that rule. He had. Why should it make a difference that he hadn't done anything, why should it make a difference that he had not raised his blade in Shizuo's path with a sick smirk and a laugh that lingered in the air? No. No. It shouldn't.

He should have killed him. He should have. But he didn't, he'd just walked away. Shizuo didn't like what that implied, didn't like that-

Tom hadn't said anything when he had returned to the other man's side. He had still been stood just up the street, his hands tucked in his pockets, looking away at something else as if he hadn't even been watching the events unfold. The other people who had been lingering in the area quickly disappeared on seeing Shizuo move, his shoulder slouched and hands tucked into his pockets too, a look of some undirected rage twisting his face. Tom had greeted him, as if he had just arrived for work or something of the like and Izaya had never been there, as if Shizuo had never let the flea disappear into the streets unharmed. Shizuo was grateful for that. He wasn't sure that he could deal with Tom asking and probing about things like that when he himself wasn't even sure what it meant.

He should have killed him, crushed him, removed him from his life once and for all. Hadn't that been what he had wanted all these years?

Tom began to walk away then, just as if nothing happened, just as if the world wasn't crumbling down, as if nothing had changed. Shizuo sighed, low, dark. He could hear his grandmother's words in the back of his mind in a quiet voice, as liquid as a whisper. Things had changed, everything had changed. He should have killed the feel, he should have left the flyer for that damn dating site in the bin where it belonged, he should have stopped himself falling in love with Nakura, with-

Shizuo didn't understand what it meant, he didn't understand what any of it meant, these feelings, his actions, the fact that he had just let Izaya Orihara scuttle off to live another day. Nakura was Izaya, had that been why Shizuo was unable to kill him? Somewhere inside the bastard lay the man that he had fallen for, had developed feelings for, and Shizuo still cared for him, for Nakura, even knowing who he really was. He knew that, and yet he still couldn't seem to see Nakura and Izaya as one and the same. Izaya was bastard, he was heartless, he was, he played with Shizuo just for the fun of it, and Nakura was- _Nakura_.

It was all so damn confusing. He didn't understand.

Izaya had done nothing to stop him either, he had just stood, egging him on. Why, why, why? Had that been some game too, some way to see if he cared, if _Shinozuka_ was still in there somewhere? It sounded like something he would do. Trick him, extort him. And yet- and yet there had been no proof that Shizuo wouldn't have killed him, there had been no proof that letting Shizuo do that wouldn't have ended up in his death. Izaya wasn't the type of person to throw himself into death's jaws. He just wasn't. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did that even mean? There had been some look in that flea's eyes, some look on his face, conviction that Shizuo had never seen before.

It was all so damn confusing. He didn't understand. No. No. Fuck. What? No.

So Shizuo did what he always did in situations like that. He tried to forget, tried to push it out of his mind, tried to stop getting so damn worked up over it, because that just lead to bursts of anger, rages. He didn't like when that happened, and he wasn't going to let Izaya unwind him that way, wasn't going to let the strings unravel because of that raven and his elusive smile. The blonde sighed again, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and catching up to Tom, who by now had powered ahead a few paces. He tried to forget he did, but can you leave something as big as that behind, even only for the time being? He didn't know, didn't-

He tried to forget, but when he could still feel cool skin and a panicked, fluttering heartbeat lingering on the tips of his fingers, how the fuck was he meant to forget?

* * *

><p>"Well, at least we got the money first," Tom laughed, turning to regard the man next to him with a small, friendly grin. Shizuo was frowning, his face carved into a deep scowl that crinkled at his forehead.<p>

The two of them had just left the apartment of the client they had been heading to see, their last one of the day. The man in question had given up the money he owed, just like Tom had said he would, but then been stupid enough to babble on about this and that until something he said annoyed Shizuo enough to send the man flying out of the window into the little balcony of the apartment below. He was still burning through the irritation that had been pulled and prodded by that little scum bag client they had just been to see. He waved a hand idly, half as a response to Tom's words and half as a polite wave goodbye, continuing to walk though the other man had stopped. If they were done with clients for the day, then he didn't need to stay any more, did he?

He hadn't gotten more than a dozen paces or so when Tom called after him again, in that low and warm tone that the other man always had. He was always calm, always in some kind of good mood, always pleased to see Shizuo, or so the man assumed. He was one of the only people like that. "Shizuo, wait a second!"

The blonde stopped, turning to look over his shoulder with a little 'hn' in reply and a raised eyebrow; enough expression in his mind to question Tom on what he wanted. The man had said that he was done for the day, that the man who was now grumbling several floors up with a bruised behind was their last client, so what could he want? Tom offered him another smile and one of his hands had raised to scratch at his cheek absent-mindedly.

"Kadota, Saburo and I are going out for drinks later," the suited man called over to Shizuo, who merely blinked at first, wondering where he was going with this trail of words. "You should come too, get out of your apartment for once. Maybe you'll even remember how to smile and have a good time while you're there!"

Shizuo paused for a moment, allowing the corners of his lips to tweak up in a little smirk, a half-smile accompanied by a low chuckle. He looked up to meet Tom's gaze, who was still regarding him with a grin too, with a look that told him that he noticed that something was off with Shizuo and that he had no choice about the offer for tonight.

"You're an ass," Shizuo responded eventually, turning away again with another wave, still smirking somewhat, still laughing. Tom always had a way of making that irritation go away, always had a way of calming him down. He trusted Tom, he saw him as a friend, a good one.

"See you later then," the man called again, "I'll call by and get you later,"

"Yeah, yeah," Shizuo muttered.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe he would go. Maybe he'd do just like Nakura always told him and take a chance, do things that scared him. Tom's laughter filled the air, reached Shizuo even as he continued to walk away. Liquid, gold.

* * *

><p>It seemed to Shizuo that Celty always knew where to find him when he needed a talk or whenever he was angry, raging, bitter. He had wondered on many occasions if the woman had slipped some kind of tracking device onto him when they'd first met - a rather in depth search of one of his uniforms when he got home one evening quickly removed that idea from his head - though he wasn't going to complain about it. Like Tom, there was something about Celty that he found calming. She had this aura around her that seemed to ooze kindness, perhaps that was it, perhaps it was the fact she had seen Shizuo at his worse and still continued to be friends with him, perhaps it was because she understood herself just as little as he understood himself. He guessed she had things a little worse, but it was nice to have some kind of shadow in common.<p>

It was still only the late afternoon, still plenty light out and warm still, so this little outing that he had agreed to go on later wouldn't be until the evening, when the sun had set; he didn't really feel like going straight home when it was still so early out. What would he do? Go home and wallow in an empty apartment, drink his milk straight from the bottom and sit and sit and sit and lose himself in his thoughts, in his feelings, in trying to figure out what was happening, where his life was crashing towards. He didn't want that. He would avoid that until he came home later, after that evening out with Tom and the others. Yeah, yeah, that could wait. Dark thoughts should only be allowed to grow in dark places where the sun didn't reach.

He'd ended up in the park, like he always seemed to, seated on one of the benches, his shoulders slouched and a cigarette lit and tucked between his lips. He'd heard the sound of her bike a while before she had arrived, in through one of the park gates to join him on the bench. Her presence was comforting, like it always was, and the tap, tap, tap of her fingers on the keyboard of her PDA was reassuring, some reminder that he wasn't alone and that there were people out there to talk to. He always talked to Celty, more so to her than he did to anyone. Maybe it was because she didn't have a voice of her own that she knew how to listen to well. Shizuo didn't know, he didn't care, just so long as they continued to be friends. He enjoyed her company, he did, really. Shinra was a lucky guy. Crazy and mad, but lucky.

_'It looks like something is bothering you.' _read the little message on the screen that appeared in front of his face. He smirked at that, letting out a little scoff and a puff of smoke from his latest drag of his cigarette. He felt like they'd been here before.

"That damn flea," he replied, shaking his head a little. Celty lowered her handheld to clear the message, fingers quickly tapping out another one for him to read. He continued to smoke as she did so, awaiting her reply and taking in the calming scent of smoke lingering around him in the still afternoon air.

_'I heard about this afternoon. What's going on?' _her new message read. Shizuo frowned at that, letting the cigarette fall from his fingers to crush under his shoe. That had gotten through the streets already? What, what? Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara's latest fight in which the monster leaves him in once piece? Great, just great, that was all he needed, for all of Ikebukuro to know that something in their relationship had changed. He guessed he wasn't surprised, guessed it was probably Izaya who had set that little information free in the first place.

"I don't know," Shizuo answered, gruffly, but honestly. He was still scowling, and all of those thoughts and feelings and ideas that he had tried to surpress until later had come crashing back now. He didn't understand, he didn't like it, didn't- "He said that- _fuck_, it's ridiculous. We- we've changed,"

She lowered the PDA, but didn't move to type anything else, clearly waiting for him to continue. He didn't. She stood, tapping her foot, and when the blonde still didn't reply, made to move away, no doubt back towards the gate where her bike was waiting.

"I don't-" Shizuo blurted out when she had stepped a few paces away. He wasn't going to admit to what he might feel, what Izaya might feel, what they had done the other day. No. No. Never. But he couldn't just go on like this, couldn't, wouldn't, didn't want to. "I don't know what to do,"

Celty paused. The sun was shining down, on her, on him, on the park in which they sat, reflecting off of his glasses and her helmet. There was a moment of quiet between them before she raised the PDA again, stepping towards him and tap, tap, tapping out another message before she left. Shizuo read it quickly when it was raised in front of his face, it didn't take long, barely a few seconds. No. No. Not long at all, and yet it stayed with him in the long minutes that followed after Celty left again, long after he heard the sound of her bike fade into the distance, long after the light had started to dim a little.

_'Life is all about risks and it requires you to jump.  
>Don't be a person who has to look back and wonder what they could have had.<br>No one waits forever.'_

Shizuo sighed, long after Celty had gone, long, long, long after, and pushed himself up to his feet. The afternoon was getting on, it wouldn't be long before he'd have to sort out some clothes to wear later, shower and eat. It wouldn't be long before Tom would be knocking on his door to take him out with the others. Maybe Celty was right, maybe, maybe, maybe. He didn't know. He didn't want to think about it right now. So he did what he did best, he tried to forget, tried to push it out of his mind and just made his way through the streets, all the way back home again.

A brand new potted plant sat in the corner to greet him when he arrived.


	44. Chapter 44: Find Me

**Author's Note: **It's always been my head-canon that Izaya is left-handed, no matter how much evidence there may be to go against it. I AM SO EXCITED FOR THESE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS THOUGH. Just you wait guys; they're going to be AMAZING. I promise~.

I've compiled a little soundtrack for this fic which can be found: **freetexthost . com / vdbkbgq2c5** - Just take out spaces, FF wouldn't let me link or s/t. Enjoy~

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><p>"Yes?" Izaya chimed into the little phone tucked against his ear. The little thing had rung just a few seconds ago, so he had swiftly flipped it open and pressed the answer button. The name that had flashed up on the screen hadn't been familiar to him, but with so many people stored in the little phone, that wasn't surprising.<p>

"Heiwajima just passed by," the voice on the other end spoke up, the gruff rasp of a man who had spent far too much of his life on the streets, smoking cheap cigarettes and downing hard liquor. Izaya recognised it as one of his numerous contacts then, one of the street rats who he paid every now and then to inform him about this and that. He'd set a couple of them the task of keeping up to date with Shizuo a while back, before this whole thing had started, this game, this whatever, because hey, hey, he couldn't expect to keep tabs on the monster all of the time could he? Izaya listened in as the man on the other end told him of when and where he had spotted Shizuo. His left hand had curled around an idle pen tossed onto the desk, jotting down the name and street of the place, some old habit he had, it was his job after all, yeah, yeah.

The little name of the bar stared up at him from the paper on the desk long after Izaya had hung up, dropping the phone back to the desk. It was almost as if it was taunting him, almost as if it were whispering into his ear. Shizuo wasn't the sort of person to just go out like this, he wasn't, and Izaya was curious; he could feel the emotion, that intense itching to find out what was going on with him. The man had been odd earlier, letting Izaya walk away like that. He had. He'd been acting differently, he'd changed, and now he was going out into some bar or whatever with Tom Tanaka. Izaya wanted to know what was going on.

The old him would have left Shinjuku, headed out without a second thought to the little bar in the hotel district of Ikebukuro. The old him would have gone in, dressed to kill, to play and to mock and to have fun with the monster, to pull his strings, push all the wrong buttons. Sometimes we know we shouldn't and that's exactly why we do. The old him was like that. Always like that. The old him was still there, under his skin, itching and moaning for him to give in, to do just that. But no, no, no, he had said he would change. He'd already started to change, hadn't he? Yeah, yeah, yeah; he'd done some nice things for the oaf, he had. He'd paid some of the money that Shizuo owed the city; it wasn't cheap when you tore up the place half of the time, so he'd paid some of it off, to get them off of Shizuo's back. Yeah, yeah, he'd even bought that silly little pot plant to try and make up. He was going to prove a point, he wasn't going to play with Shizuo like he had done, and he wasn't going to—

But what if someone tried to take Shizuo home? No. No. Someone else touching his things just wouldn't do. The old Izaya smirked from somewhere in his mind, celebrating the victory, as he changed his black t-shirt for that tight red one, trousers for those black jeans, shrugged on that old jacket of his and left the loft. The computer remained turned on, a little box on the screen informing him that his email to Kasuka Heiwajima had just been sent.

* * *

><p>The bar was pretty busy when Izaya stepped in through the door. There had been a queue outside, which naturally he hadn't needed to wait in. He was Izaya Orihara, and the information broker waited for no one. There were people, everywhere, laughing and chatting and touching, seated at the bar and clustered around little booths and twirling and sliding together on a little area they had set aside for dancing. It was nice, yeah, it really was, really, really, really. The music was nice and the atmosphere was nice and it wasn't anything like the little seedy clubs that he always visited.<p>

He spotted Tom quickly, seated at one of these booths with Kadota, who had never really liked him, and a couple of other people that Izaya knew the names of but had never met or spoken to. Spoils of his job, he knew everyone and everything, even if it didn't matter, even if they didn't matter. Ha. Ha. He spotted Shizuo shortly after, away from the rest of the group by the bar. He stuck out. Blonde and tall and lean. Izaya could help but let the corners of his mouth twist up into a little smirk on seeing him, seeing him here, looking relaxed, out of those ghastly bartender clothes for once. The jeans he wore looked good on him; they hung low on his hips and curved with his body. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He must be mad, he really must be mad to be thinking things like that about Shizuo, about the oaf, the man he was meant to hate. Mad, mad, mad, that was him with a capital M.

The blonde wasn't alone though, a fact that had the old Izaya laughing, mocking, deep in the corners of his mind. There was a man, stood with him, grinning, smiling, tugging Shizuo off towards that dancing area. Shizuo didn't look pleased, the scowl, the frown, that downturned mouth said it all. Izaya wasn't pleased either. He didn't like the way that stranger's hand was curled around Shizuo's wrist, he didn't like the way that Shizuo was frowning, scowling, but doing nothing to stop the man from towing him away. The brute was his and his alone to play with, to tease, to do as he pleased with; and that man had no right, no business to be touching what wasn't his. It was rude, so fucking rude, and Izaya didn't like it at all.

The raven slipped into the crowd from the other end, taking care to ensure that neither Tom and his group nor Shizuo spotted him in the process. One of his hands slipped into the front pocket of his jeans, thumbing the little back of the flick blade tucked in there. He had spotted that man now, as he slid in and out of the bodies, through his humans. He was good at things like this, sneaking and prowling like a cat on a hunt. It was his kingdom, his domain, he fit in here, with the music and the heat and the closeness. Shizuo didn't, it was obvious from the way the blonde's shoulders tensed, hunched up and the way that he had turned to try and escape that he didn't want to be here, that he was uncomfortable. Izaya could remember the last time that he had spoken with Shizuo – no, no Shinozuka – about this sort of thing; even then the oaf had said he wasn't good at being in places like this.

Izaya smirked, his lips tilting upwards as he approached, drawing the little blade from his pocket. Shizuo had turned in some attempt to escape, facing back towards the bar and the booth where Tom sat, where safety sat, but the irritating man had placed his hands on the blonde's waist to pull him back, to start the dance. Well, naughty humans had to be punished didn't they? And there was nothing naughtier, nothing more deserving of punishment that touching things that belonged to Izaya, of manhandling his playthings, his toys, his _monster._

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to touch things that don't belong to you?" Izaya hissed, digging the tip of that cool metallic blade into the side of that stranger's torso. He delighted in the little hiss of complaint from the other man, the little gulp that followed. He delighted in the victory when the bastard dropped his dirty hands and made to scuffle away. He delighted in watching the man shoot little glances back at him as he left, a hand clutching to his side as if Izaya had followed through with the unspoken threat and dug the blade all the way in. Ha, ha, as if he would dirty his knife, dirty the cool metal with blood belonging to a rat like that.

"Would Shizu-chan rather dance with me instead?" The information broker purred, stepping up behind the blonde once he was sure that the other man had been sufficiently scared off. "Or am I not your type? That man _was_ rather handsome wasn't he? Shame he didn't know when to keep his hands off,"

Maybe it was mad to get so protective over the monster, especially when Izaya knew he could take care of himself more than well enough, especially when Shizuo was still so insistent on hating him; maybe, maybe, maybe it was mad, but it didn't matter, Izaya didn't care; people do crazy things when they're in love after all, don't they? Besides, ha! No, no, Izaya wasn't just going to let Shizuo get out of this mess that easily, he wasn't going to let him walk away, just give up, not when there were still so many signs pointing his way, not when Izaya had his hopes up. Things with Shiki had disappeared into the darkness and pulled Izaya along with it, into nothingness, into— no, no, Shizuo wasn't getting away, and Izaya wouldn't let the monster flee.

It was funny, wasn't it? Mad, mad, mad, that he felt this way. Who would have ever thought that this would be the case? Erika was probably jumping for joy somewhere in Ikebukuro, squealing madly.

Izaya raised a hand along with his smirk, letting it ghost around Shizuo's waist, skimming over the front of his torso and lower, lower, lower; his fingers, swift and lithe, had just brushed over the buckle of Shizuo's jeans when he felt a firm grip tighten around his wrist, forceful enough to stop him in his tracks. He raised his blade again, pressing the tip just against Shizuo's thigh, a little reminder that the blonde should behave, or Izaya would punish him too. Naughty, naughty monster and all that, ha, ha. He could feel the tightening of Shizuo's shoulders, his form, but he could feel what seemed like relief oozing through the blonde and the slight tremble in his fingers, holding his arm. Nothing stays the same. No. No. Not even Shizuo Heiwajima. Not even the monster, the brute of Ikebukuro can stop himself from changing, can stop everything, the whole world falling out from under him. Izaya could see that, Izaya could feel that, all in the tiny trembles of Shizuo's fingers.

"Damn louse," Shizuo bit out. Izaya only just heard him over the music, noting with a delightful laugh that it held hardly any of the venom that usually wormed its way in. Maybe it was the situation, maybe it was the fact that Shizuo was unknowingly admitting that he had changed, was changing, was going to keep changing. "I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of-"

"You never told me anything the last time we met though Shizu-chan~" he scolded back, twirling the handle of the blade idly in his hand, but not removing it from where it lay, pointed just inches from Shizuo's leg. "My, my, is that any way to talk to someone who's done such nice things for you? So rude~!"

"Nice?" the blonde scoffed, "You've done nothing but—"

"Life is not about what I've done, what I should've done, what I could've done... it's about what I can do and what I will do," Izaya cut across, a little irritated, a little bitter, but sincere all the same. His tone was light; it was, nothing like the normal way he was used to speaking to Shizuo. This was softer; this was different, just like how Shiki had used to talk to him, ha, ha. The irony in that didn't fail to register in Izaya's mind. Neither did the scent of the man in front of him, ghosting over him, around him, pulling him in, and drowning him; it was mad, mad, mad. It was mad that he had fallen for this man, but now, yeah, yeah, he thought it mad he had ever been able to hate him quite the way he had done in the first place. He was fascinating, beautifully monstrous, how could he have hated that? Mad, mad, _mad_.

"Just because someone messes up once doesn't mean that within time they can't find a way to change for the better. I got you that nice potted plant didn't I?" he continued, again with a low chuckle. His knife had lowered now, and Shizuo had removed his hand from around Izaya's wrist, but neither of them had moved, neither of them had made to get away from this closeness, not even Shizuo, the man supposedly so against him, against whatever it was they were capable of being. Ha. Ha. Nothing stays the same, not even Shizuo. No. No. No.

Izaya really couldn't hold back the smirk now. No. No. No.

"You've messed up more than once," Shizuo shot back, and from the hissed tone, Izaya could tell that he was getting himself worked up, that the whole thing, the past, everything still irritated him. He was wise enough not to push his luck. He wouldn't stay longer than needed and ruin what he had already started, ruin the point he was trying to make. He'd done what he had aimed to do by coming here. He'd chased off any dirty rat trying to steal what was his, and better yet he had managed to see more proof of the changing man in front of him. He was changing, they both were. Izaya could see it, Shiki could see it, yeah, Shizuo would see it soon enough. And then— and then—

"I don't regret anything. The sun still rises, the sun still sets. The heart forgives, the heart forgets," Izaya simply laughed back, letting his hand drop from around Shizuo and stepping away a pace or so. He hadn't felt this good in days, weeks. He was gleeful, everything was just— those strings of control over his life had found their way back into his hands again. He felt better, no longer free falling through blackness, unsure of where he might land. "Maybe when the sun next rises, you'll come and find me,"

He'd almost vanished when Shizuo turned, wildly, nearly knocking someone across the floor in his haste. There was a look on the blonde's face that Izaya found amusing, endearing, hopelessly fascinating. Shizuo was scowling, he was, but there was something in his eyes that Izaya could read, something that gave him hope that Shizuo would keep on changing, that Shizuo would take the plunge soon too, and join him wherever it was he had landed. And then— And then—

"You know where I'll be, _monster_,"

Because Love was a monster, and it's name was Shizuo Heiwajima.


	45. Chapter 45: Struggling

**Author's Note:** Sorry for no update yesterday! For some reason the site wouldn't let me sign in to my account to upload this. I was going to post this chapter and what would have been today's chapter, but I have two exams tomorrow and so I really don't have time to write another chapter today. I need to get back to the books and cram revise for tomorrow.

Tomorrow's chapter will be well worth it, provided these exams don't kill me of course...

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><p>Ikebukuro was quiet, and had been for a few days now.<p>

Shizuo couldn't have found the louse even if he had tried. He guessed that bugs really did have the best hiding places in the world. He'd not seen the raven once since their meeting the other night at the little bar. Celty had told him that Izaya had simply not been in Ikebukuro since, and she'd not questioned why he had asked her if something had happened to him, but way her hands rested on her hips and her helmet cocked to the side, it was obvious she realised that something was different, that something was off. He hadn't told her anything, especially not what had happened the other night or that encounter the other morning, no, no, and yet he knew that she could tell that something was going on. Shizuo wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. No, no, no. He'd not told Tom about running into the louse at the bar either, he'd just told the other man that he was going home, that he didn't feel well and wanted to go and sleep.

Shizuo had tried to block that out, that night, that bar, that— for the sake of keeping his sanity, but when he could still feel those cool fingers skimming over his stomach, when he could see hear that little chuckle and the slight pinch of the blade at his leg, it had been hard to just forget. Izaya was hard to just forget. He always had been, even when Shizuo had simply hated him, the informant was one of those people who were always lingering, always present even if they weren't actually there. That didn't change simply because their relationship, Shizuo himself, had somehow shifted dramatically. Not everything changed, and Izaya was one of them. Like some kind of ideal, some kind of child that will only change as much as they must, but remain themselves until the very end. Heh, yeah, bugs were stubborn weren't they?

These few days that had passed had been calm, really, they had. It was nice to be able to keep his temper in check somewhat. It was nice to not have blades slashing past his face and a dirty chuckle in his ear. It was nice to just go to work and listen to Tom chatter on about clients or the new restaurant just down the street. It was easier to suppress the irritation and the rage when it came to clients once he had heard that Izaya seemed to be avoiding Ikebukuro for whatever reason or another, Shizuo tried not to pay it much thought. Yeah, yeah, these days were nice, they were cool and calm and yet—

They didn't feel right.

He didn't like the calm. It was nice, it was, but it felt fake and forced, as thick as fog, smoke, whatever. There was something missing, something that made it seem like whenever he got home the day wasn't finished yet, because something still hadn't happened. It took a while for him to figure out just what it was that was different, what it was that had changed, and it took even longer for him to stop trying to force the idea out of his mind. Izaya had been interfering in his life for as long as Shizuo could remember, years now, since school, yeah, and so to have the louse finally listen, finally stay out of Ikebukuro like Shizuo had been telling him to all this time; it should have had Shizuo celebrating, it should have had him basking in the victory. And yet— it always seems to be that whenever you finally get something you've always wanted, that it doesn't hold nearly the same value as it did before.

Ikebukuro was quiet, and it was calm and he had refrained from pulling up any benches or trees or any damn object in a fit of rage in these past few days. So why was he still finding himself expecting the flea to come skipping around the corner, box of sushi in hand, to taunt him into a merry little chase? Why was he finding his days empty, lacking, because he didn't have that anymore? It was mad, mad, mad. He wanted this. Izaya was doing as he wanted. That should be it, the end.

By the time the fourth day had ended, Shizuo found himself questioning every little thing. He questioned what had prompted the raven to finally listen, to final stick to Shinjuku and stay out of Shizuo's home. He questioned what had happened at the bar, why his fingers had shaken, why he hadn't just tossed Izaya through the wall right there and then, why he had felt that tingle of relief to hear a familiar voice, his voice. Things had been changing before, falling apart underneath him, and yet now, with the sudden disappearance of Izaya, that process only seemed to have spiralled further and further out of control. He doubted it all, was now second-guessing everything he had thought he had known.

He didn't even know himself anymore, he didn't understand what it was he was feeling or meant to feel. Things were changing, they were. It was stupid, it was, but maybe, maybe, maybe Shizuo was being to wonder if this was all just another one of Izaya's games. He knew the flea somewhat, he knew how short his attention span was, he knew that when the louse normally tried to pull something over on him that it was never this long, this drawn out, this—

When he had been younger, he had always grown up thinking that love would be easy. That when he was all grown up someone would just walk into his life and declare that they loved him. That was what happened in the movies after all, so why not in real life too? The blonde had been sadly wrong on that fact, but he'd always clung to the ideal of true love, of someone walking into his life and having such an effect on it and on him that he never forgot them. Shizuo scoffed, was he expected to believe that person was Izaya? The man he had decided to hate on sight, all those years ago.

Yeah, yeah, it was mad. It was. And yet— even now, Shizuo wasn't sure quite why he had chosen to act that way. There had just been something about Izaya that made him feel— and he had chosen to accept that feeling as hate. But what if that had been the wrong call and he should have waited, should have looked deeper? Because they could get on, and Izaya had bought that damn pot plant and— heh, and what? Was he expected to think that this was enough to make up for years of abuse, years of fucking— but there was that tiny voice in his head that wanted to laugh at it, wanted to find it hopelessly— heh. He was doing it again, thinking too much. So yeah, yeah, maybe that plant or paying some bills couldn't make up for everything the louse had done to him. And yet there was something in the little acts that was just— Izaya had done what? Proved that he could change, that he could learn to not hate Shizuo? He wanted to laugh at that, that he was expected to follow the flea's example, and yet—

There was something inside him that seemed to cry out for that. To agree with it, to let go, to give up, admit defeat and at least try not to kill the raven headed man every time he saw him. The two sides of him seemed to be fighting with each other. It was confusing. It was. Shinozuka and Shizuo, the man who had fallen in love and the proud monster, both wanting the same thing and yet disagreeing on how to get them.

That didn't help him. It didn't. Shizuo was struggling, really, really he was. He was fighting himself, one side of him reminding him that Nakura was still Izaya, that no amount of fucking potted plants or money paid on his behalf would change that. That side was the one who still didn't want to let go, to accept this might not be a game, because that idea was much scarier than if Izaya was just continuing to play. And yet there was that other side too, the one who had fallen for Nakura, the one who was insisting that Shizuo couldn't go back, so he might as well go forward, that every passing moment was a chance to turn things around. That side wanted to smile at the plant, wanted to laugh until his sides hurt that the louse was capable of something like that.

He was struggling, still struggling, kicking back against a current that was fast becoming too strong for him, fast pulling him under. It was only a matter of time before he snapped, because something gave, and Shizuo was beginning increasingly to think that something would be him. Izaya was stubborn, and so was Shizuo; and yet—

Shizuo was tired of all this fighting, all this conflict and bullshit in himself. He was struggling. Everything was crumbling down around him, and yet—

Shizuo was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments of this and that and glue them together again, he was never one to tell himself that it was as good as new then, especially when he broke things so often, so violently. What is broken is broken - and he'd always thought that he'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as lies. Maybe, or maybe he had just been so bad at fixing things that he had learnt to deal with the consequences, learnt to put up with whatever, let the chips fall wherever they may. Whatever he and Izaya had been before, that hate or animosity or whatever, yeah, yeah, that had broken, it had, smashed to pieces under both of them, scattering in such distance that there was no hope of gathering all the pieces again. There was no way that either of them could go back, of that Shizuo was sure. Even if he tried to put it back together, tried to go back to hating the flea, he couldn't. He couldn't just hate him anymore, hate him with no complications. Shizuo hated that more than he hated the flea. The irony amused him. He had noticed the changes in the louse, and he had noticed that he was changing too.

There was no way to mend those shattered pieces, but maybe, maybe, maybe there was a chance to make something new; something wonderful and the likes of which he had never seen before. Maybe, maybe, maybe there was a chance, if he just took a breath and jumped. And then—

Heh, fuck, what was he thinking? No. No. No. It was mad. He was mad. He was still in turmoil, still struggling to look past the surface, still struggling to look past Izaya in order to find Nakura lurking underneath. Was that what Izaya was trying to prove with all of this, by asking Shizuo to find him? The ball was in his court and Nakura, that man who Shizuo had come to love; well he was out there, still, waiting for Shizuo. All the blonde had to do was go to him, find him, accept the whole of him, twisted mind and all. And then— _and then_—

Then what? He could have that love, that feeling that he had wanted, had a taste of, briefly. It was madness. He didn't know what he was feeling. To love Izaya, to not love him, that really was the question. He shouldn't. He wouldn't. He probably couldn't. He was struggling and fighting for air and kicking and screaming and being towed away, down, down, down. And yet—

It was madness to go to Shinjuku, _he _was mad to arrive outside of Izaya's loft in the middle of the afternoon, with the sun giving way to delicate twilight, slinking down behind the buildings once again. Everything was mad, mad, mad, but one really does do crazy things when they're in—

Shizuo laughed, and knocked on the door.


	46. Chapter 46: Quite Content

**Author's Note: **_Two exams are now out of the way, dad made the most amazing tuna bake for tea and I now get to spend the night catching up with Homestuck, woOoOo. I am in the best mood ever, so I hope you all enjoy this. I'm a sucker for stuff like this. Just wait until the next chapter though, it's so fluffy and wonderful and aw I love it. (Blowing my own trumpet like a BOSS)_

_Please don't forget to let me know what you thought in a review or s/t~.  
><em>

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><p>When Izaya had heard that knock at his door and sent Namie to fetch whoever it was for him, he'd not been expecting to find Shizuo stood there, peering in with an expression that made Izaya want to laugh. No, he'd not been expecting the blonde to be there at all. A client, most likely, someone after some information in exchange for easy money; or maybe someone coming to deliver sushi for him, that was less likely seeing as Namie would never go out of her way to do something nice like that for him, but well, there was no need to dismiss it completely. He had been kind enough to let her come back to work after all; she should be thanking him, really, because who else would put up with her nonsense? The pile of paper on her desk had finally gotten too big for Izaya to ignore, and with his little perk in mood, he had called the woman up and told her to come and sort it. Ha, ha, but no, he'd not been expecting this, nothing like this.<p>

Izaya had known the oaf was stubborn, that was one of the very first things that he had learned about Shizuo. He had known that especially over something like this, something like them and the shift their relationship, or whatever they were calling it now had taken, Shizuo would be even more stubborn. He'd realised that the blonde wouldn't just come running to him and everything would just fall into place. Quite frankly he would have been disappointed if that had been the case, that was dull, it was boring, and he didn't want anything like that. He wanted hot, he wanted interesting, he wanted unpredictable; as unpredictable as a monster. Ha. Ha. Yeah, yeah, he had known that Shizuo would take a few days to dwell and to brood, but he couldn't deny that when each day ended and he hadn't come, there was a part of Izaya that believed that the blonde was never going to come; but then there stood Shizuo, the brute, in all his monstrous beauty. Proving him wrong once again. Ha. Ha.

He looked a little awkward, Izaya didn't blame him, some strange mix of irritation and uncertainty and some other faint look that Izaya could see but couldn't identify. It was curious. He was curious. Shizuo had come; he had done as Izaya had said, he was here. That meant something. Something big. Shizuo wouldn't have come otherwise. He wouldn't have. If the oaf had decided to deny the shift, the change in their relationship, their feelings or whatever, he would have kept on running, he wouldn't have come here. Izaya knew that despite it all Shizuo wasn't one to rush head on into a conflict if it could be helped. Izaya knew that sometimes Shizuo just couldn't help it.

The look that Namie sent his way said it all, she never had been very good at keeping her thoughts and whatever else was in that empty shell hidden. Izaya had been able to read her like a book since the very first day she had stepped before him, really, it was child's play. He'd since taken great pleasure in playing with her, inventing meaningless tasks for her to do just to see what kind of reactions he could coax from her, just to see if she was capable of feeling or whatever. She looked the same as always now, that blank face with the half-cocked eyebrow that told Izaya she was trying to figure out what was going on. Hopeless human, simply hopeless! Izaya resisted the urge to laugh at her, and simply returned the gaze with a rather amused little smirk twisting at his lips from where he sat behind his desk; once again up to his ears in work that he had allowed to pile up, thick and black rimmed glasses resting steadily on the bridge of his nose.

"Ah, is that your dear brother I hear calling for you Namie?" Izaya chortled across the room towards the woman, still stood by the door. "Why don't you trot off and find him. Shizu-chan and I have business to discuss,"

She was fixing him with one of those glares that she seemed so fond of shooting his way now, though the icy expression did little to bother him or make him regret whatever he had said to her, whatever he had done to her. She wasn't perfect, she'd been cruel before, and life has a funny way of paying that kind of thing back. This was just Namie getting what Namie deserved; well, that and also the fact that he just couldn't help pulling her strings to try and prompt something interesting from her. It was like getting blood from a stone, he'd succeed one day. Hadn't he already proved the impossible possible before? He made no move to get up though, and Shizuo's brow was now crinkled somewhat as he attempted to pick up what was happening. His eyes seemed to flick from Izaya to Namie and then back behind him, as if worried that someone would spot him here, that he had been followed.

The woman stepped from the door after a couple of seconds spent no doubt murdering Izaya quite enthusiastically in her mind, heading to her desk to collect her bag, coat and the stack of work that, naturally, he would expect her to have done by the morning. Shizuo stepped in once the doorway was free, lingering awkwardly in her wake, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his trousers, brow now crinkled in a deep frown. He seemed to be staring at some spot on the floor a few feet away from himself, not that Izaya had taken to watching him once he had stepped in, as if that would someone make the awkwardness or whatever it was eating away inside that brutish beautiful body of his.

That feeling in Shizuo only seemed to intensify once Namie had left, promptly shutting the door behind her. Izaya had turned his attention mostly back to his work, continuing to jot down notes and scroll through his computer screen, though he still took note in the corner of his eye what the blonde was doing.

"Why don't you go and make yourself comfy? I haven't done anything to the sofas, you know," Izaya hummed out, peeping up from his paper for a brief moment to see that Shizuo still hadn't moved, was still stood by the door with his hands shoved into his pockets, staring at nothing. It was amusing to him, really it was, seeing the monster looking like this. He'd never seen it before, and if the brute had been interesting before, then he was even more so now, more delightful, more captivating, more everything. "You look far too tense over there Shizu-chan~"

The blonde choked back what was obviously intended to be some kind of scoff, some kind of verbal abuse back at him, the result of reflex, years of hating him. Izaya knew this, whatever this was or would be or could be, wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be straight forward, but the fact that Shizuo was here, the fact that he had come said more than the blonde probably realised.

"I do, huh? Tch," Shizuo muttered, just under his breath, not intending Izaya to answer, which he didn't, though he couldn't help but smile somewhat. There was another pause, and then stiffly, almost robotically, Shizuo unfurled himself and stepped over to one of the long sofas on the other side of the loft. Izaya was still looking down at his work, but he couldn't help but watch the other man in the corner of his eye, both as an old habit and for reasons other than that, new reasons, better reasons. The blonde was still awkward when he sat, his muscles flexing delightfully when he moved, no, no, not that Izaya was looking of course. That would be mad, mad, mad, and he wasn't mad, not quite.

Neither of them made to comment on what was happening, neither of them said a thing about Shizuo being here, about just what that could imply. Izaya guessed that Shizuo was still struggling with that, still wouldn't admit it, or maybe the blonde really was just that damn awkward. He wasn't going to say it either. He didn't think it needed to be said, not yet, soon, but not yet. It could wait, just a bit longer, until this work was done and then maybe after a cup of tea. Then he would stop, he would talk to the brute, and they could tumble into the abyss once more, to a world that neither of them had ever known before.

So a few seconds passed in simple silence, with Izaya scratching down notes and Shizuo letting his eyes skim over the loft that he had never seen before. It was funny, that they could be in the same room, that it could be this quiet with them in the same room, that everything could remain unbroken, whole. This shift in their relationship, whatever it was, whatever it would be, it was obvious now. Something had changed, they had changed, and the proof of that was the silence hanging pleasantly in the air around them. The awkwardness faded as the light did, as the time passed. Shizuo had fumbled in his pocket for his lighter and for his cigarettes. It was still silent, save for the hum of the computer and the sound of breathing and the rustle of paper.

Izaya didn't care for smoking, really, he hated it. Health had always been something important to him, even as a kid, even when he had been too little to really have been caring about it. He'd never liked smoking. No. No. Never. People had used to smoke at Shiki's all the time, Shiki had used to smoke too, and Izaya had crinkled his nose and curled his lip and complained until the older man had stubbed it out just to shut him up. And yet he said nothing to Shizuo, not a word, merely allowing his nose to crinkle a little. There was something enticing about it when Shizuo did it, something about the way it perched between his lips, something about the quiet and calm way in which he went about it. Izaya had never seen Shizuo like this, had never seen a beast so calm, so no, no, no, he said nothing to Shizuo and the blonde said nothing either. Shizuo hadn't changed so much that he was unrecognisable. He wasn't going to stop doing what he normally did just because of this, whatever it was, whatever, yeah. He'd gone back to staring at the floor, inhaling and exhaling, struggling on, just surviving.

It was funny that the atmosphere could be so comforting; it was funny that it could be so pleasant with two supposed enemies sat in the same room. Maybe it was because Shizuo was smoking and maybe it was being Izaya was working, maybe it was because Namie wasn't there or maybe it was because they had both realised the change in them, the shift in their world. Maybe, maybe, maybe; it didn't matter now, not just yet. They weren't talking, weren't doing anything. It was almost as if Shizuo was sat at his own home and not here, as if he wasn't waiting there, on the sofa, just across the room. Neither appeared to be taking much notice of the other, and yet Izaya knew that half of his mind was focused on the man on his sofa. He wondered if the same was true of Shizuo. They would talk later, in a minute, when this work was done and that cigarette was finished. Time was no issue. It didn't matter. There was no hurry, no rush to do anything at all.

Izaya found that it was hilariously funny how he could feel so calm, especially when locked in the same room as the monster, the man with the liquid golden eyes and the nature of a hurricane. Despite it all, despite the fear and the threat and the fact that Shizuo was there, that there was something changing, that the world was falling out again under them both. It was like some twisted thunder storm somehow tamed into a little glass bottle, some delicate balance. It was calm, it was pleasant, and Izaya was— ha. _Content_.


	47. Chapter 47: I Don't Know

**Author's Note: **_The next chapter will include sex. Just to give you a heads up if that's not your cup of tea. This was meant to be a short and sweet kind of chapter, but before I knew it, I'd written over 2000 words. Oops. I hope you enjoy regardless, it's been a long time coming, right?_

_**Please forgive any typos**! I spent longer on this chapter than I planned, and it's pretty late in the UK right now so I only had time to give it a quick proof before I go to bed. I normally spend longer proofing, but I have college tomorrow and I am dead on my feet but wanted to get this up today so. /keels over/ Forgive me~~~~_

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><p>Nothing stays the same. Shizuo knew that. He knew that life had an uncanny way of tossing and turning, like a storm, like a hurricane, intent on unsettling a struggling ship trying to make it home. That's just the way of things. Nothing ever stays the same.<p>

He had never thought there would be a day when he would be able to stay so close to the louse and not end up with his temper flaring. It had been a ridiculous notion before. To think that it was even possible would mean that Shizuo had started to descend into madness, that he had finally let his brain give in and spoil. And yet here he was, not only within sight of the louse, the flea, that enticing bastard, but sat in his home, the loft, somewhere in the upper side of Shinjuku. Just sat, quiet and calm and smoking, as if he had never left his own home, as if this wasn't the place that it really was. Nothing stays the same, and this was proof enough of that.

Shizuo still wasn't sure why he was here. He hadn't been sure when he had knocked on the door and the initial daze had worn off. He hadn't been sure when the door had opened and that woman he knew worked for the louse opened the door. He certainly hadn't been sure when he had stepped in and taken a quick look around. Things had changed, but he was still unsure of how or what the hell that even meant. He was struggling, he was, and he knew that. He knew that he was stubborn and he knew that he was not nearly as intelligent as the smug bastard sat behind the desk over there, but he knew that his choice to come here meant something. He just still didn't know what.

No. No. That was a lie, wasn't it?

He knew why he had come here. He knew that he had changed, that he had started to look past whatever hate or whatever he had felt for the flea. That was why he had come. Because he had to know, he had to confront_ this_, these feelings, the man over there, he just had to, couldn't not. He was still being stubborn, still there was a part of him denying these feelings, this, _everything_, everything and anything that he could.

There was that part of him that was screaming, telling him to just run, to get out and break whatever of the flea's property he could on the way out. That was what he would have done before, with a cry of the louse's name, running, running, running like normal. That would have been the natural order of things, back then. And yet now he was sat there, on the sofa, with Izaya just across the room with those glasses on his nose and that little crinkle of concentration on his face. He was sat there, not running, just smoking and breathing and surviving. When he had first signed up to that site and met Nakura, heh, he had been scared; he had, really, scared that Nakura would take one look at the real him and run and then he would be all alone, forever, ever, ever. But Izaya had seen him, all of him, and he wasn't running. No. He was chasing Shizuo, and with the smoke of his cigarette curling around him, the monster was at last— heh, _content_.

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><p>Izaya wasn't sure how long passed before he set the little pen down onto the desk. He wasn't sure. It could have been an hour; it could have been more or less than that. Considering Shizuo was still smoking, Izaya guessed it hadn't been long. It didn't matter, it really didn't. There was no rush anymore, because Shizuo was here now and that was just— no, no, maybe that was just the final excuse of a coward, not wanting to really follow through with these feelings he had accepted. He'd always thought that he would never be able to love someone back again, for so many reasons, that new persona, Shiki and yet-<p>

"So Shizu-chan," the information broker began, in the same slightly teasing lilt that he normally took on, with clients, with his humans. "What can I do for you today?"

Silence seemed to follow his question, though it wasn't awkward, it was just more of that same silence they'd been sat in for so long, calm and quiet and— Izaya looked up, his glasses still resting quietly on the bridge of his nose, throwing Shizuo's sharp features into focus. The blonde had turned to look at Izaya, though at what point he didn't know. As soon as he met Shizuo's eyes, the blonde turned, quickly shifting his attention elsewhere as though he had been caught thinking, red-handed. The cigarette quickly raised to his mouth again, allowing the blonde to draw in the intoxicating scent. Izaya let the corners of his mouth tweak up into a little smirk, his fingers closing around the little arms of his glasses to remove them and rest them on the surface of the desk instead.

"Why— What—?" the blonde started, but clearly whatever it was he wanted to say quickly broke off in his mouth, replaced with a rough 'tch' and the crossing of his arms over his chest. Izaya could read the tightness in that pose, could read the anxiety, he could read that, and yet he had no idea what that meant, no idea what Shizuo was really _thinking_. This was so out of the norm that they had fallen into, so different from their supposed natural order of things. This was the real him and the real Shizuo, finally giving each other a chance to— to what? Where did this go now? Shizuo was here, and Izaya was here, but now— now what happened? Izaya hadn't planned much further than this. He should have kicked himself for that. Izaya always planned, and yet—

"I don't know," Izaya admitted with a dry chuckle, pushing his chair away from the desk and allowing him to stand up. He didn't know, and Izaya rarely lied, no matter how much people seemed to think that he did. "You know, things happen to you, and sometimes you don't realize why it happened until much later,"

Shizuo scoffed at that, and Izaya relished the low laugh that fell huskily from the blonde's parted lips. By now, the raven had made his way from behind his desk and had started towards the area in which Shizuo still sat with slow, languid steps. The blonde was still sat on the sofa, one leg drawn up so that his foot rested on the edge of the cushions and his hand rested on his knee, now level with his chin. The cigarette rested in between two lithe fingers, but no, no, not that Izaya was looking.

"Things happen to me?" Shizuo spoke, and Izaya drew to a stop a few paces away, his own arms crossed across his chest. "Do all of your games count in that?"

"I suppose so," Izaya agreed with a laugh, amused. His face was blank, some old habit he had picked up, that habit of keeping his emotions guarded in situations that made him uncomfortable. "But this isn't one of them, not now anyway,"

"Now?" came the low reply, another scoff.

"What do you expect? I need my little games to keep me entertained," Izaya chuckled again at Shizuo's question, shrugging lazily with one shoulder. "You were a mistake that wasn't meant to happen in that game, Shizu-chan. I wasn't intending it to be you,"

Izaya's father had once told him that you are simply born and you die and in between you make a lot of mistakes. Izaya wondered if there was such a thing as having a favourite mistake. Ha. Ha.

He'd had given up trying to read Shizuo's thoughts in his eyes. The monster had always been unpredictable, had never acted or seemed to be what Izaya had thought he would do or be. Why should now be any different? Shizuo had changed, he had changed, but in their cores, _inside_, they were still the same, cat and mouse, hot and cold, flea and monster. Izaya didn't want that to be any different, even if their feelings were, even if their entire world had changed, he wanted them to be the same inside, just—

Shizuo didn't reply. He seemed to have fallen silent, seemed to have even forgotten about the cigarette curling and licking smoke up delicately towards the situation. Izaya was moving again, his steps light, feathery, almost like he wasn't really aware he was taking them. This situation was changing, rapidly, quickly, too fast and too slow for him to keep up. He was melting away, the old him shining out once again, that teenage boy who had run away from home, who Shiki had found wet and cold on the streets; it was like he was back, in charge for once, taking control of a situation that the new Izaya didn't know how to deal with.

What was this feeling? Nerves? No, no, that was mad. It was mad. This whole fucking thing was mad. Izaya was stepping closer, closer, closer until he had brought himself in front of the blonde, the monster, the oaf. Izaya was stepping closer, closer, closer until he had lowered himself to sit, half kneeling on the edge of the sofa over one of Shizuo's legs, the one that wasn't raised. The blonde's face was blank, blanker than his own, but there was something swirling in that liquid gold that was just— what was this feeling? What was it? What was— Izaya didn't move, for his sake and for Shizuo's. This was uncharted territory, new ground, unfamiliar to them both. This move of his, so bold and—

There was silence again. Neither of them seemed to really know what was happening, both of them take a breath before the inevitable plunge into darkness, into that abyss that had no end in sight. Neither of them seemed to really know what this was still or where they would end up, just that they were both here, both able to sit here, quiet and calm, struggling on, just surviving, together.

One of the information broker's hands reached across after the pause, his fingers, slim, pale, curling around one of Shizuo's wrists; raising his hand up so that he could then rest his other hand flat against the monster's smooth palm. Izaya almost laughed at the difference. Shizuo's hands were bigger, they were long fingered and as warm as the rest of him, like sunlight, like— Izaya's were slim, but they were small, cool and pale like the moon. Shizuo and Izaya had always been contradictions, right from the very first moment they'd met, but maybe that was a good thing, weren't opposites meant to attract? Ha. Ha.

"Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past, stop figuring out precisely how we feel, stop deciding with our mind exactly what we want our heart to feel, sometimes we just have to go with the flow," Izaya purred, his voice quiet, whispering, as if the moment, this calm connection would be broken if he spoke normally. His face was blank too, quiet, waiting, waiting, waiting and his other hand dropped, allowing Shizuo's hand to remain pressed against his, the warmth of that skin, liquid gold. "We're both monsters, and who can love a monster but one of its own kind?"

"What are we doing?" Shizuo half mumbled out, and Izaya wondered if he was just asking himself that or if the blonde wanted him to reply. He didn't move his hand from Izaya's, and so the two just remained there; Izaya half on his lap, half off the sofa, their hands palm to palm in the air.

"I don't know," Izaya replied, "I don't know,"

Another pause, another, another, another. It wasn't uncomfortable, just silent, quiet, seeming to stretch on and on. Shizuo seemed to have taken to staring again, his brow crinkled in what was no doubt some heavy thought on the matter. Izaya didn't blame him, this, whatever it was, wasn't going to be easy to deal with, to sort through, to understand.

He didn't know what they were doing, but when his head lowered and Shizuo's tilted up and their lips met in such a warm connection, how could he be anything more than completely content?


	48. Chapter 48: Slow and Steady

**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the lack of updates these past couple days, my social life took a turn for the better and I haven't really had the time to sit down and write, so this is just a little bit of smut to keep things ticking over until tomorrow~. Updates should be back to normal now so I'll see you all tomorrow with another update!_

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><p>Gentle, that's what it was, the kiss, and those lips on his. Gentle like the wind on some soft summer afternoon, tugging sweetly at the flowers and the trees with a tender caress. Shizuo would have laughed at the very notion that the louse was capable of something like that if he wasn't so lost in the fact that he was capable of it too. He was slipping under, allowing himself to be pulled along with this madness, this kiss, and these stirring emotions inside of him that he still didn't fully understand. It was impossible for someone like him to suddenly understand those feelings. He was new to love, and to pair that with the idea that he had fallen for a man he was meant to hate, no, no, it was impossible for his mind to work through that quickly. But that was fine, for now, maybe, maybe, maybe—<p>

Tomorrow he would think some more, because today all he could focus on was the way that mouth connected with his, the weight on his lap, the warmth that seemed to radiate slightly into him. It was wrong, it should be, and yet Shizuo seemed to have changed in that second, racing forward into someone else, changing and changing and changing into a man who wanted this, who didn't hate the flea, who didn't have the curse of strength. Just two people in love, was that what this had become? Was that how he was meant to look at this now? He didn't know, and really, maybe, maybe, maybe it didn't matter.

Shizuo wasn't sure when they broke apart, to suck in a breath of air that both of them needed, struggling on, surviving. He wasn't sure what he was thinking or supposed to think when their eyes met and their hands lowered the sofa, still entwined. He wasn't sure what to say when Izaya's head tilted to the side and a half sighed, half whispered call of his name left that mouth of his. Shizuo wasn't sure what to think or what to do when the raven stood, tugging at his hand, pulling him up from the sofa, and into that free fall, down to the abyss that neither of them were ready for.

Shizuo wasn't sure when he stood, he wasn't really aware of anything; just like he hadn't been the last time they had headed down this path, this way. He wasn't aware of the loft as it passed them, barely even aware of his own thoughts and the little voice at the back of his mind that was screaming at him to wake up, to realise who he was, where he was, that it wasn't a good idea. He wasn't aware of how or when or why they ended up curled together on the bed in a tangle of limbs, both moving with slow, sinuous grinds, only that they did and then had.

Tomorrow he would think about it all, tomorrow he would, because right now he was lost in that blissful state of unawareness, numbness. Tomorrow he would think and Shizuo half wondered if tomorrow would ever come. Maybe, maybe, maybe it didn't matter if it didn't. Maybe, maybe, maybe this was just—

Just what? He didn't know. He didn't care. Not yet. Tomorrow he would. _Tomorrow_. Heh. It was mad, mad, mad. Shizuo guessed he never had been quite alright in the head though, why should it be any different now? No. No. No.

The pair of them were aroused, aching, but there was no fierce lust or rough passion like last time, no, no, it was something sensual, exploratory. It was different than before; it had shifted, just like they had, into the abyss, into something they hadn't felt before nor were likely to feel with someone else, anyone else. It was enticing, intoxicating. Shizuo was fast falling under its spell, this slow heat, this slow descent into madness with the raven that had fallen under him when they had reached the bed, covers quickly coming undone and unmade under them. Neither had yet made a sound beyond little gasps, slight moans, soft, light, something that was as foreign to them as anything else. Their eyes locked, in what had once been some kind of challenge, the first to break becoming the loser; light and dark, liquid, hot.

Izaya ran a hand down Shizuo's form, fingering the buttons of the shirt, the waistcoat, still staring, still breathing, struggling, struggling, just surviving. The blonde could feel something, deep in the pit of his stomach where that heat had built last time, some stirring sensation, in the core of his very being. It was different than before, everything was different, this was different, he was different, and the louse was different. It was some possessive feeling, the sort of feeling that someone was supposed to have for a lover, for someone dear to them. It was mad he should be feeling this for the louse, that bastard, that— it was madness, and yet he found himself willing to step into it, willing to lose him mind and just let go in exchange for this feeling, this—

Izaya's lips were tilted up into a smile, some kind of smirk, something, whatever, at him; an expression that Shizuo had noticed appear on the flea's face more and more often lately in the past few times they had met, run into each other. How was it that seemed enough now to quell the anger he should be feeling? How was it that someone who had once been the cause of that rage, those feelings, could now turn that upside down?

With a sound that was some part scoff, some part sigh, the blonde leant down once more, catching Izaya's mouth with his own, tongue tenderly feeding from the addicting mouth. Bold fingers continued to slide up his chest, undoing those little buttons, pushing past those boundaries once again, just like they always did. Shizuo quivered, rolling his hips against the body under him, delighting in the hardness that seemed to greet him. Who would have thought that at one point he hated the louse, the flea, the bastard? And now- heh, no, no, he didn't talk about now.

Izaya all but purred in contentment, allowing himself some control, nibbling at Shizuo's lower lip; the raven, flushed, warm, let his free hand wonder down Shizuo's back and lower, lower, lower, taking that irritating waistcoat and shirt along with it and off, off, off the blonde. This was all so different from before. It was slow and lazy and relaxed; there was no rush, not this time, no, no. it was as if time stood still, frozen, slow, and languid. Everything was so different, one of a kind, they were used to fast, quick, in their life and the time before that they shared, and now—

Everything was different.

Shizuo had almost lost track of where his hands lay. One to keep him up, balanced, propped above the flushed raven, and the other had wondered, down and down and down. Izaya broke away from the leisurely kiss they had been joined in, a moan now tangling out of his mouth, needy, breathless, hips bucking; the sign that the pace of their night was changing, that it was starting to speed up again, that these fleeting touches and slow heat was shifting again, into something hotter, fire, fire, lighting hot. His cheeks were flushed, the cool skin now heated, no longer pale like the moon, now red, rouged, like the blush of a cherry blossom, a petal in the spring.

With a lazy chuckle at the sound that left the raven, the blonde moved his lips away. Some half-arsed act of challenge or a final act of defiance against his old enemy or something else, he didn't know, didn't care. Where would be the fun in fiving the flea what he wanted? His mouth settled at the column of Izaya's neck, licking at the wide expanse of flesh there, nibbling and nipping at the pulse point there while the lithe body under him wriggled, writhed. His mouth moved lower, dipping down the little slither of skin on show under the t-shirt that clung to Izaya's chest. Urgent fingers closed around his hair, tangled in the gold, urging him on and on and back upwards where Izaya lay, decadent and lazy and lips tilted up in a quiet smirk.

Nothing stays the same, never, never, no, no. Time wouldn't stand still for them forever, and it wasn't now. This slow and leisurely exploration was fading, shifting smoothly into something hot and heavy and much more fitting for them, their natures, that fast paced way of life they had come to know, to live with, and to thrive on. Shizuo was losing track of time, losing track of his own world, his own present, and his own actions. He lost track, lost sense, of when his fingers curled around the shirt clinging to Izaya's form to peel it off, he lost track of when the rest of those irritating clothes joined his shirt and waistcoat on the floor beside the bed. He lost track of when Izaya pressed something to his hand, lost track of when his fingers slid down and down and down the flea's body, between legs that parted for him as easily as anything. He lost track of putting them to work, stretching and teasing and swallowing up those shallow moans that fluttered to his ears like butterflies in the spring. It all just melted together in this lazy and unhurried love, this heat and this— He lost track of it all, who he was and who the flea was and what he was meant to feel. It didn't matter. Tomorrow he would think of it, tomorrow he would care. Nothing stays the same, never, never, no, no. Maybe, maybe, maybe tomorrow would never come.

"Is the monster quite done playing with its food?" Izaya half chuckled, half whined out. He was getting impatient now, bored, the heat flaring across the lower half of his body demanding attention, more and more of it, more than it was getting. Hips bucking and wriggling for attention, calling for action from the blonde, poised, hard, stoic, above him.

"You're the one having sex with this monster," Shizuo half laughed in return, low and lazy, a husky sound that vibrated from his very throat, the pit of his stomach. His lips twisted up into a smirk, one to match that of the man below him. Mirror images, hot and cold, dark and light, the original contradiction, that was them. "Don't act like you're any better than this, _flea_,"

"Just take me already," the raven replied, and laughed. "Beasts don't need to pretend they have manners,"

Well, who could resist an offer like that? Shizuo laughed too, low again, dark again. Bracing one hand by Izaya's shoulder, he did just that. The louse seemed to have given himself up after that, lost the bravado and the attitude in favour of muttering lewd comments in Shizuo's ear, whining, begging and— heh, who could resist an offer like that?

Not Shizuo, not anymore.

There was no turning back now they had stumbled into that abyss. Together, into the dark, no, no, no turning back.


	49. Chapter 49: Resonating Hearts

**Author's Note: **I've been cursed with a plague of plot bunnies and a case of writer's block right at the same time, so basically my writing has kind of run face first into a wall. So this is kind of a filler really, the big emotional stuff will be dealt with in the next chapter~~~~. /keels over/

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><p>The room around him was only dimly lit by the handful of light rays slipping in through the windows to reach the cracks of the apartment. It was always a time that the raven found enjoyable, beautiful. At sunrise, everything is luminous, but nothing is ever clear. A strange in between time, one of transition, one of magic and uncertainty and one that always had prompted only the best and most fabulous reactions from his humans, his playthings, those little, little pawns. Izaya had often marvelled at the beauty of the sunrise or the magnificence of the full moon, but he found it impossible now to fathom the world in which he found himself when he awoke. A new world, one that was entirely different to what he had once known, exciting, dangerous, uncertain.<p>

Izaya allowed his body to stretch as it dug its way back into consciousness, clawing at wakefulness like some kind of languid, lazy cat stretching after a long nap in the afternoon sun. Muscles ached, deliciously, delightful, a tingling reminder of what they had felt the night before, clenching and unclenching and rolling under that pale skin. He could feel the whisper of sheets against his body, and half wondered when they had been thrown over him. Had Shizuo and he done that before sleep had closed in on them both? His hair stuck up, raven strands as unruly and vulgar as he had once been, as a child, and there was a definite need to shower soon after he got up. And yet there was no rush, hadn't he already decided that? Izaya was still clawing through that initial haze of sleep and allowing the details to slink back to him along with the tingle of his skin, the delightful ache of his limbs.

"I wasn't expecting you to stay," Izaya laughed out, rolling to his back. The sheets were cold beside him, though rumpled from where someone had lay. Shizuo might have woken up to find that he regretted it, that he had forgotten what had happened or some other pathetic thing that the oaf was prone to do, but he hadn't left. The weight at the end of the bed told Izaya that Shizuo was still there.

"Tch," was all the reply he received, and he let out another laugh, sitting himself up to prop his back against the headboard. His arms raised in another stretch, once again allowing him to delight in the dull ache of the satisfied and sated muscles. The blonde in question had remained on the side he had fallen asleep on, though had moved down to sit at the edge at the bottom. The covers were pooled at his waist too, and that was enough to tell Izaya that he hadn't moved, was still bare, flushed, an expanse of golden skin. His brow was furrowed, forehead crinkled in such a way that Izaya could see there was some serious thinking going on under that thick skull.

He wriggled forward when Shizuo said nothing else, down the bed a little, one hand rising to reach out, as if to cup at the blonde's cheek like one might caress a lover they'd known for years and not an old enemy. Shizuo's face turned before his fingers could even draw close enough to feel the heat from the skin, turning to look away from the bed, away from him, a pinch of red peeping across his nose, though whether that was due to embarrassment or frustration of some kind of impending rage, Izaya didn't know. It didn't stop him finding it appealing, didn't stop him inwardly laughing that now everything about the blonde seemed to be drawing him in. Well, well, that mysterious air, that unpredictability, hadn't that been what made him so interesting before?

He let his hand linger in the air for a second or so, before the fingers curled back up and he dropped it once more to the cream of the bed sheets, still crumpled from the night before. He couldn't help but let a little smile slip onto his lips, twisting them up, at Shizuo's reaction. He knew it wouldn't be as simple as having sex again and then confessions of love and whatever the fuck else to swiftly follow after. He didn't want it to be that simple, and was quite sure that he wasn't going to be the first to fall and utter those words anyway. Of course the brute would be stubborn; it was in his nature, that captivating, ugly, hopelessly fascinating nature. He was imperfect, ruined and marred by that strength of his, by his own anger, like a broken toy or a scratched record; not quite broken, not quite new.

Love isn't finding a perfect person though, Izaya had long since known this, especially after Shiki, after that, Shiki hadn't been perfect, no, no, far from it. It was about seeing an imperfect person perfectly. Izaya guessed he had reached the point of recognition with Shizuo, that the monster was the man who had changed him, pulled him under. Izaya guess he had passed that point, accepted it, and had started to look at Shizuo, at the oaf, that beautifully brutish man, for what, no, no, for who he really was. Yeah, yeah, it was all rather mad, wasn't it? Mad, mad, mad, and yet Izaya had not a problem in the world anymore, not now that he had gained the control over those spiralling feelings of his once again.

"So what happens now?" Shizuo questioned in a low voice. His face was still downcast for a moment, brows furrowed, but when Izaya sighed, he looked up, those golden eyes meeting Izaya's halfway.

"Isn't that my line?" The raven quipped back, though with only half of the teasing as normal and another sigh lacing those words like some kind of ghost. Even he was unable to escape from whatever fog had fallen upon them. This was what it had all been leading to, wasn't it? This talk, whatever came with it, what happened because of it? Tomorrow had finally come, and the pair of them couldn't run away without an answer anymore. Izaya knew that. Shizuo knew it too.

Another silence fell, and Izaya moved down again, slow, slow, slow like he had been before. That same hand reached out again, though this time to reach for its partner, its double, the long fingered hand that was currently propping Shizuo up at the end of the bed. When cool, pale fingers closed around his this time, the blonde didn't move, didn't flinch, simply lowered his gaze as if their joined hands, loosely bound, would somehow give them all the answers they needed.

"What are we supposed to do?" Shizuo questioned again, a rumble of frustration tumbling out. Izaya wasn't sure if it was directed at himself or at him, didn't question it. Everything was different, everything. This wasn't something that was easy, it just wasn't, and even he wasn't sure where it was going, where he had really seen it or wanted it to go.

"Anything!" He bit in, "_Something_!"

Shizuo looked up at that, looked up from their hands to Izaya's face again. There was that emotion in the gold depths again that Izaya couldn't place, something that shimmered and burned and swam. He didn't like it, he wanted to know what it was, didn't like not knowing.

"So long as we don't just sit here," the raven sighed, rolling his eyes and curling his hand back up and away from Shizuo's. They couldn't go back to how things were before, no, no, that path was out, up in flames, closed off to them forever. They could only go forward from it now, but Izaya didn't know what that entailed. So many variables still had to be accounted for, so many questions still needed answering, and things still needed analysing. He had wanted the blonde to come, to acknowledge that he had fallen too, into the depths, the abyss, but Izaya hadn't planned for what came after that. Maybe, maybe, maybe he had never expected to get this far, maybe he just hadn't known what he wanted to happen. He guessed it was some odd mix of the two.

"If I thought you were messed up before…" Shizuo muttered, another bitter sigh slipping between his lips, as freely as if it were alive. A cigarette sounded like a great idea now, something, anything to help him think, to understand what was going on and what was meant to happen. Whoever would have thought he and the louse would end up in a place like this? Not him, not Izaya. No, no, no. He didn't know what to think, still didn't. Maybe his words were more of a reassurance to himself than to the other man. He didn't know, he didn't. But Izaya didn't know either, and there was something in that, something comforting. "We just— we're not supposed to— we aren't supposed to feel like _this_, whatever the fuck this is,"

"You know, I was once told that when two people are meant to be together, their hearts resonate with such intensity that the other's heart can hear that call," Izaya half chuckled, now running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the headboard once again, allowing his eyes to close for a moment or two and shut out the stronger light that was now reaching in with rude fingers. "They say it's possible to hear that call from far, far away and that the other heart will answer to that call someday. Maybe that was why you hated me; maybe you heard your own heart all those years ago and just didn't like what it said,"

"That's bullshit," Shizuo scoffed, his gaze settling on the raven, an amused smile of his own tweaking his mouth in a somewhat bitter, somewhat glum manner. Maybe Izaya had been right, maybe it really was true that only a monster can love a monster, and they were certainly a pair, weren't they?

"Probably," Izaya agreed, not opening his eyes, even when he felt the weight at the bottom of the bed shift closer, when he felt Shizuo settle into a seated position next to him, warm skin brushing against his. "But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Shizuo laughed, but the sound was far off, and Izaya could already feel sleep grabbing at him again, pulling him back under its spell. Yeah, yeah. Maybe another hour or so asleep would make this thinking easier, would give him more ideas. Later, they could make this decision later, no rush, no rush at all, time was still, slow, slow, slow. Darkness was closing in around him, and then a warmth like liquid gold, something that felt like arms and a chest and the steading pounding of a heartbeat in his ear, slow, slow, slow and then a final, low voice that he barely heard before sleep closed in again.

"_Maybe, maybe it does," _


	50. Chapter 50: All Monsters Are

**Author's Note: **_I got an offer from another one of the universities that I applied for. That's two down, just three more to go, whew! Hopefully this writer's block is gone for good after my little break, I certainly hope so anyway. Well, I can't believe we've reached chapter 50, just oh my gosh, I never expected I would have this much to write or that so many of you would take such interest in it. Thank you all so much! I hope this chapter is special enough for this new milestone chapter~._

_**Please** don't forget to leave some feedback. It only takes a minute or two to **review**, and it means to world to me and my writing to hear what you all think. You guys are the reason I write this after all! Well, enjoy the chapter anyway, and I'll see you at the next update~._

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><p>Shizuo had woken up early.<p>

It had still been dark when his eyes had opened and his brain had fluttered back into consciousness, slipping away from the other world inside his own head. The flea had still been asleep beside him, tucked into the crook of his arm, though Shizuo had no remembrance of them falling asleep like that. His skin was as bare as Shizuo's, naked and cool, though the blonde could already spot several bruises flushing up on Izaya's paler self, from his own hands, his own mouth. It had been early when he woke, yes, dark, and the only person who would have put a stop to Shizuo simply sliding out of there and running, running, running was still asleep, curling into him like they really were lovers and really could stand to be in the same room and not supposed enemies, not men who were supposed to hate each other.

It would have been easy to leave and not look back, as easy as it was not to think; but Shizuo didn't leave, and for the longest time, he didn't even move from where he laid, despite the skin to skin contact with the bastard, the louse, the man beside him. No, no. He didn't move, didn't think either, just lay there, tangled in the bed sheets with a raven headed bastard, listening to his own heartbeat and feeling soft, cool breaths ghosting on his skin from the body slumbering beside him. He just allowed his mind to go blank, to just take in the feelings, the warmth and the noise and block out that voice at the back of his mind, that anger, telling him what to do and what not to do. Maybe he shouldn't listen to it anymore, no, no, maybe, maybe, maybe—

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think.

It was easier, so much calmer and nicer to just let it go blank. He could imagine the ocean, something that he had only ever seen in pictures and on television; those long sand covered shores, cool water lapping at them lovingly and puffy streams of clouds lingering in the air like flies caught in a web, like sheep dancing across a never ending stream of blue. It was calm and it was cool and it made his temper, his red hot rage and that cursed strength that had ruled him for so long seem like some long forgotten dream. It made it seem like the faint whisper of a memory already half lost in the torrent of time. Calm and cool and quiet and easy, that's what not thinking was.

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think.

Thinking was hard. It made his head ache, his body want to curl in on itself and shrink away from the very notion of it. Thinking was hard, and Shizuo didn't like it. Thinking meant that he looked too deeply into things, thinking meant that those two halves of his very being woke up and started to fight, thinking stirred up that internal conflict within him. It hurt, ached, and not in the tingling way that his muscles did, sated, satisfied. No. No. He didn't like thinking, about his feelings, about the flea, about just what this mess was that he had stumbled into. Thinking ruined that beautiful place in his head, marred the sand and the waves and the cloud with dark, ugly thoughts that he didn't like.

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think. It was easier when he just allowed his mind to go blank, to just be aware of the warmth of the body that had curled into his, to just be aware of his arms unfurling to enclose the slim shoulders of that body, to just be aware that the sheets were wrapped around his legs and tangled, tangled, tangled. It was so much better, so much easier, to just be aware of that, but to not think about it, to not realise what any of it meant. If he started to think for too long, he would just get angry, would end up tossing this bed, these sheets, that body across the room and ruining the delightful ache of his limbs, his skin.

So he did just that, stopped thinking, or stopped to the best of his ability. For the longest time, Shizuo just lay there, still and calm, as if being in this bed, with this man, curled together, was the most natural thing in the world, as if that was just the way things worked, as if it wasn't twisting everything they had ever done before, ever known. It wasn't until the sun started to rise, until the light started to creep into the loft through the wide windows that Shizuo shifted, untangling himself from the limbs and warmth of the figure next to him. It wasn't until those rays of light started to reach him and the louse and the bed that he moved, sliding from the sheets in favour of perching himself on the edge of the bed, brow furrowing, hard and—

When the louse had woken, Shizuo had barely been aware of it, really. It would be easier not to think, it _was_ easier not to think, and yet his mind had pulled him in, and he had allowed himself to fall head first back into those thoughts that seemed to plague him. They didn't get him anywhere, just resulted in him going around and around in circles, over and over and over. What he was feeling, what he was meant to be feeling, what happened next, he didn't know. Shizuo was beginning to think that maybe it would save him the trouble all those thoughts and questions would no doubt cause if he just let them go, just forgot, stopped analysing the past, stopped analysing his feelings. Maybe the flea was right, maybe he was—

It would be so easy to just slip out, just like the louse had done the last time. It would be so easy to just pretend once again that this had never happened, and yet Shizuo knew that hadn't worked last time, knew that it wouldn't work this time. It would be so easy to just go, to leave, and to listen to the voice in his head. But he couldn't deny it anymore, couldn't deny that he needed to stay, to _talk_. So he stayed, he did, he moved back up to the top of the bed where the raven lay sprawled, he waited for the other man to fall asleep, and then he curled down next to him too. Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima tangled up in one another and half dozing in the early morning light. Ha, the idea was fucking hilarious wasn't it? It was _mad_.

But all monsters are quite mad. Why would Shizuo be any different?

_Yes, yes, quite mad indeed—_

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><p>It was mid-morning when Izaya finally woke, his eyes opening and limbs stretching for the second time that day. Shizuo had left the bed by then, once again sliding from under the warmth of the sheets, this time in favour of leaving it completely in search of his trousers and underwear. The two had been tossed haphazardly to the floor the previous night, just beside the bed, and Shizuo was quick to pull them on despite the crinkles and creases that had formed from where they had been laying. He still hadn't left though, no, no. It was quiet in the loft, quiet and warm and he still hadn't left even though there was ample opportunity for him to have done so, even though it would be so easy and so simple and would remove all threat of hurt and stop Izaya in his tracks if this was all part of that game still. No. No. He'd just left his shirt where it had fallen and returned to that sofa where he had been sat before, another cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, and mind pleasantly blank.<p>

"Are you trying to seduce me, Shizu-chan?" the raven drawled from across the room, breaking through that daze that Shizuo had fallen into, that blissful blank state of mind. Izaya didn't seem to notice what he had interrupted, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice, that old face of his sliding back on, always happy, always smiling, laughing, smirking.

Shizuo looked up at the words, cigarette still curling smoke toward the ceiling. He didn't reply, just blinked, once, twice, allowing his eyes to fix Izaya was a hard look. Izaya hadn't bothered to dress either, instead choosing to pluck Shizuo's own crumpled shirt from the floor. The white fabric was draped around him now, lithe fingers gripping at the side. It was big, reaching down to Izaya's mid-thigh or just a little above. Shizuo didn't really care why. He was taller, broader. Izaya was smaller, thinner, needed a damn good meal or five. Shizuo almost laughed at the cliché notion of it. To think that the two of them had fallen into something like this, a relationship like this. It was funny how easily hate could turn into something else; it was funny how easy it had been for the change to happen and for the two of them to get sucked up into it. It was funny how he could still not think, still keep his mind in that blissful blank state and just enjoy being alive, breathing, the taste of that cigarette on his tongue. Once upon a time he would have rejected any idea like this and killed anyone who even suggested it. Now— heh, Shizuo didn't want to talk about now. That would require thinking, and he was done with thinking, wasn't he? Heh, heh, heh. Yeah.

"All that skin on show?" Izaya continued, as if he had no care in the world, as if this situation didn't trouble him too. He just carried on walking, across the loft, towards the sofa where Shizuo was still sat. Still, hard, quiet, just as if he were at his own home and not here. "I think you just might be Shizu-chan~"

The blonde let his mouth lift up briefly at the corners, but the smile dropped as soon as it came, marred with a low sigh that whispered out.

"I should be throwing you across the city right now," Shizuo spoke, quiet and cool. Izaya's lips quirked upwards at the words, despite the tone, despite the mood of the room, despite their odd positions, despite it all.

"You should," he agreed simply.

"I should want to kill you," Shizuo continued.

"You should," Izaya agreed,_ again_.

Another pause followed, just as quiet, cool, calm as the rest. Shizuo sighed, stubbing out his cigarette without another drag, still half finished. The taste had changed, it was bitter in his mouth. Izaya must have heard, but either chose to ignore it or was unaffected by it, instead just continuing to walk closer and closer and closer, eventually settling himself in Shizuo's lap as he had done the night before, as if this was just how things worked now. Shizuo couldn't help but flinch, and the blonde half wondered if the louse had just done that, had just done half of the things this morning, to see him squirm, to watch that flicker of discomfort and uncertainty flash across his face for his own amusement. Shizuo had put up with games like that for too long to completely be able to banish those paranoid thoughts from his mind, and yet—

"But you're not throwing me across the city right now," Izaya retorted, eyes lowering to Shizuo's. Watching the emotions rushing through them was certainly amusing, interesting. The way that liquid gold burnt and swirled was captivating, enchanting in ways that Izaya had never really appreciated or tried to see before.

"No," Shizuo agreed, in that same monotone that Izaya had used before.

"And you don't want to kill me," Izaya continued with a ghost of a chuckle. It was a statement. Not a question. He was sure, he was confident, and Shizuo wasn't sure if that confidence was real or forced. Maybe it didn't matter. No. No. It probably didn't.

"No," The blonde hummed back, low, husky, "No,"

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think. It was easier, so much calmer and nicer to just let it go blank. He could imagine the ocean, something that he had only ever seen in pictures and on television; those long sand covered shores, cool water lapping at it lovingly and puffy streams of clouds lingering in the air like flies caught in a web, like sheep dancing across a never ending stream of blue. It was easier to not think of the man in his lap, to not think of what he had felt in the past, what had happened in the past. Thinking was hard, thinking hurt. And yet— and yet—

"So what becomes of us now, Shizu-chan?" the low whisper broke through the little daze he seemed to have slipped in. The voice, that bastard, heh, he sounded just as uncertain about this as Shizuo did when the blonde really listened. He sounded like he didn't know where it was heading either. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Shizuo replied, husky voice just as quiet as Izaya's. Neither was moving, neither was leaving, just both of them remaining still, calm, quiet. "This is wrong, this is— I don't know what comes next,"

"If you wait to do everything until you're sure it's right, you'll never do much of anything," Izaya laughed. The sound was odd, Shizuo didn't know quite where to place it. It was some odd mix of amusement and bitterness and some other emotion that Shizuo didn't know, but felt all the same. "I've learned not to worry about what might come next,"

"Tch," Shizuo bit out, a huff, his head turning from Izaya to stare at the floor, to glare at it as if that was what had caused all of this, all these feelings and conflict inside. It was easier not to think, and maybe he should listen to that damn flea, maybe he should listen to those feelings, the ones for Nakura or Izaya or whoever it was. Him, the raven with the twisted smile and a hold on him like a puppeteer. It shouldn't be so hard to do this, to give in to love, but Shizuo had always been stubborn, and that fact that this was Izaya, the man that he— this was never going to be easy, never, never, never, ever.

"Why is this so fucking easy for you?" he continued before Izaya could pipe up with another remark. "It shouldn't be— _damn louse_. We're meant to hate each other, you've done all these messed up things and— _fuck_, I shouldn't even be thinking about this, I shouldn't—"

"Monsters really do think too much. You just decided to hate me when we met; you couldn't even believe in that last one percent back then, could you?" Izaya cut across, half joking, half— "Have you never thought about getting to know me, never thought that we aren't so different after all?"

Shizuo didn't say anything, and for a second or so, neither did Izaya, as if he were waiting for the blonde to reply. It was a novelty seeing the blonde so calm, so collected. Izaya liked it. It was a welcome change from the brute who seemed to fly off of the handle whenever they met. This change, this shift in them both, it was obvious now. To him at least. Obvious. The raven had almost said something when Shizuo had claimed that it was easy for him. Ha, ha. What did the blonde know? This was no simpler for Izaya as it was for him. Really, really, they weren't so different after all. They'd both changed, completely, utterly changed. Together.

"It is better to know and be disappointed, than to not know and always wonder," he continued, when Shizuo didn't answer.

It was light in the loft by now. Mid-morning after all was a glorious time in the city, full of life and action. Golden rays had filtered in to light the place in beautiful tones of cream and gold; tiny little specks of dust or whatever floated and twirled in the beams like a swarm of tiny ballerinas, all performing in the grandest recital of their lives. It was warm, both from the sun and the light and the heat of skin on skin, body on body. Content and pleasant and—

"Alright," Shizuo sighed out with a low laugh, genuine, mirthful. "I give up,"

"Take my hand and we'll give up together," Izaya replied, and once again, just like magic, Shizuo felt those cool fingers curling around his own.

This was mad, mad, mad, but then again, all monsters were, right?


	51. Chapter 51: Warm

**Author's Note: **_I'm thinking this will probably finish on Ch.60, plus an epilogue, but that all depends who the chapters pan out when I write them. I don't want this to end, I'm so attached. /sob/_

_One reviewer also asked whether I pre-write chapters, so I thought I would answer that here as well in case other people were wondering. Each new chapter is written from scratch the day it's posted. Usually that will take me anywhere from an hour to two to write depending on my creativity that day~. Well, I hope you enjoy this one anyway!_

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><p>It wasn't until Izaya was alone that his brain really seemed to start to click into place. It wasn't until he was alone that it started to tick, tick, tick in action and really flourish like it always had done, always used to. It was still light in the loft; pleasantly warm thanks to the golden rays sprinkling in to heat it up, light up the cool creams and blacks and colours of the place.<p>

The sheets had still been warm when he had woken up too, for the second time, despite the fact that Shizuo was no longer in them. That heat had stayed with him even when he had left the bed, that smell of golden monster still lingering with him as he headed through towards the sofa, towards the man who had left behind that delicious heat, that wonderful tingling in his limbs.

But Izaya was alone now, left to finally sort through the muddle of his thoughts and really pick apart what had happened, to make sure he didn't lose control or sense of it like he had done before. After their little scene, confession, whatever the hell it had been on the sofa, with their linked hands and linked eyes and linked minds and some unspoken gesture of emotion, the blonde had excused him rather awkwardly to shower. Izaya had almost chuckled at the look on Shizuo's face. That awkward inexperience, the look that told him that he really didn't know what he was meant to do following a sort of confession that you care deeply for a man you're meant to hate. The raven had expected it of course, because even he couldn't help but feel that little tug inside of him that told him this whole thing was messed up, that he shouldn't be allowing these feelings of weakness and whatever to creep back in, and for Shizuo Heiwajima of them all. But Izaya's poker face was better than Shizuo's; he'd had years of practice to build it. The blonde's was practically non-existent. It was hopelessly lovely.

Shizuo had said that he had to be in early for work, that it was just easier and quicker to shower here and then go straight to meet Tom. Izaya had nodded at that, smiled, knowingly. He doubted Tom would even care that much if Shizuo was late, the other man cared for Shizuo too much to worry about a little thing like that. Izaya had seen that for himself, had even questioned at one point whether the other man had allowed feelings more than friendship to brew for the blonde, wondered if that was something he could exploit. That had been a long time ago though, and he had since dismissed the idea, since spotted Tom chatting to some leggy blonde outside of Sunshine 60. Yeah, yeah, Tom might not care, but Izaya guessed that Shizuo knew that too, that it wasn't the reason for his decision to leave on time. It wasn't as if he could tell Tom the truth if he was late about where he had been, was it? It wasn't as if he could tell his boss that he was running behind because he'd been having sex with Izaya Orihara, locked in a castle of heat in a Shinjuku loft owned by the man he was supposed to hate, with a vengeance, with every passionate fibre of his being.

No. No.

That was fair he guessed, it made sense, really, yeah, yeah. But Izaya never had been very good at keeping secrets or maybe, maybe, maybe, he just didn't see the need to keep this one. Maybe it had to be kept quiet though, in the dark and secret, tantalisingly delicious. Did he want people to know about all these sordid, juicy little details about him and Shizuo, the monster, the beast?

Izaya could hear the shower, the sound of water hitting the bottom, through the closed door of the bathroom just across the loft. He half wondered if Shizuo had locked it, still unable to shake those last dregs of distrust for him like he was still unable to shake away those little bites at the blonde, just to see the way he ticked. It was impossible for love to change him completely, and he wasn't sure he would have let it do so anyway. This was nice, wasn't it? Whatever this new thing actually was. Shizuo in his place, showering, him, sat outside in the blonde's own clothes. They were content with this right? This impasse, this dizzying conclusion to the game that he had started so long ago, was this where things were meant to end? Izaya supposed it wouldn't be so bad if it was.

Ha! Ha! What a pathetically human thing he was doing, allowing himself to think things like this, to feel things like this. No. No. Maybe he did understand Shizuo, maybe he didn't want to tell anyone either. No. No. Maybe he didn't need anyone to know. Maybe he was content with this, whatever it was. Maybe they could all go on thinking that Shizuo and Izaya hated each other, that they would fight and yell and scrap like old tigers, vicious until the very end.

Izaya had returned to his desk when Shizuo had left to shower, still curled up in the over-sized white shirt that belonged to the blonde himself. He didn't even bother to think about changing, didn't even bother to think about why he had chosen it in the first place when his had been within reach too. Maybe it had been because it looked lighter than his own, softer, maybe it had been because he wanted to see the look on Shizuo's face when he came out; still unable to shake that little playful tinge to his own nature, though he had since said that he would stop playing such games with Shizuo. Maybe, maybe, maybe, Izaya didn't really care too much, not much at all; just so long as that soft, crinkled white fabric continued to whisper across his skin like the lingering touch of a monster's grip, he didn't care why, didn't need to think of why. It just _was_, just like they were, they just happened, without any miracle imaginable.

'_I give up.' _

'_I give up.' _

'_I give up.'_

Yeah, yeah, Izaya had settled himself back at his desk, his legs curled under him in that funny little way that he always sat lately. His computer was on, had booted up just as quickly as any other day, the screen filled with things like normal, information and figures and the like. His desk was clustered with papers as usual, work that Shiki had faxed over at some point the previous day that he had only really focused on now. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his hands linked together to perch his chin on and his eyes were staring at the screen, glazed over, not quite taking in what was there. He was all ready to do work, and yet with those words echoing in his head again and again and the sound of the shower across the loft, he couldn't work. All he could hear was that honey voice, over, over, over.

Shizuo gave up, that's what he'd said. Izaya knew what that meant, and yet he couldn't help but pick and prod at that, wonder just if Shizuo was meaning what he was saying. Izaya guessed he did, Shizuo was hardly one to beat around the bush, and yet— with Shizuo involved, anything in the world could happen, even he could happen without a second thought, a laboured breath. Anything was possible with Shizuo Heiwajima involved.

"All you ever do is fucking work," murmured a voice from across the room. Izaya looked up at that, finding Shizuo now exciting the bathroom with his trousers on, towel slung around his neck and hair still glistening slightly with drops of water from the shower.

"I enjoy my work," he replied, letting his lips quirk up into a smirk, both at the blonde's words and his casual state of undress. Funny how he could go from hating the blonde to admiring that wide expanse of skin, marred with a few little hicks and scars as pale as day now, in just a few short weeks, months, years, yeah, yeah. Was that concern he was hearing in Shizuo's voice? Was that kindness he spotted dancing in those liquid golden eyes? Once upon a time, the raven would have mocked the other for that, prodded and pulled at that little human weakness. And now—

Ha! Ha!

Shizuo didn't reply after that, just let a little half laugh fall from his mouth and his own lips twist up in a smirk that lasted a second or two before being replaced with that same expression he always wore. Izaya pretended not to watch him walk across the loft, head over to the desk, because no, no, no, this might have changed, their relationship might have twisted into something else, something much lighter and newer, but he wasn't going to go back to that person he had been before, with Shiki. That scrawny teenager who wore his heart too readily on his sleeve, who took pride in declaring exactly what he was feeling when he was feeling it, no, Izaya had learnt from him, would keep him close, but he wasn't going to let that old him back out, not completely. He was the new him now, some strange mix of all of these images together. He was Nakura personified; he was Nakura now, right? Maybe it didn't matter, because Shizuo was here. Not that Izaya was noticing that, not that he was watching, not that he knew exactly when Shizuo drew to a stop by his chair to peer over his shoulder at the work on his screen.

"What's so fucking interesting about this anyway?" Shizuo questioned, and though Izaya had turned his attention back to the screen, sort of, not quite, he could feel the warmth of Shizuo's arm press against his as he leant over, could practically see the way his brow would be crinkled in confusion. Izaya knew him well. He'd had years of reading him. That was more than most married couples could say, right? Ha. Ha. "All I see if a bunch of words and numbers and shit,"

"Shizu-chan has such a foul mouth," the raven playfully scolded back, dealing out a little slap to the blonde's bare skin behind him, which he guessed was his chest from the taunt tenderness of it. "Maybe you should have cleaned that out in the shower too,"

"Tch," was the response, "Damn louse,"

This was nice, wasn't it? Whatever this new thing actually was. They were content with this right?

"Eh, Shizu-chan, you're dripping all over me," Izaya piped up after a pause when a stray cluster of water droplets had fallen to his shoulder and seeped through the shirt covering it. He could feel the stiffening of the body behind him. He could feel, see, the tinge of pink creeping across the monster's nose.

Izaya smiled, and fought back a laugh. Yeah, yeah. This impasse, this dizzying conclusion to the game that he had started so long ago, was this where things were meant to end? Izaya supposed it wouldn't be so bad if it was.

Izaya supposed it wouldn't be so bad if it was. Maybe he was content with this, whatever it was. Maybe, maybe— no, no, he really was, wasn't it?


	52. Chapter 52: Crinkled

**Author's Note:** _Hello, hello! I know I said this would be up on Thursday, but I got a review that kind of upset me a little so I haven't really felt like writing much lately. _

_To the reviewer in question, I know I can't please everyone, but your review really did upset me. My writing style is just how I write, I'm sorry that you don't like it. I appreciate you telling me your thoughts, and there are some parts of earlier chapters that I would like to improve, but this story isn't over yet, we'll see what happens I guess. So thank you for your review, but if you leave reviews for other authors in future, please remember that being blunt like that will not make them feel very good about themselves._

_To everyone else, this probably won't end up at chapter 60 now. We'll see~. Just a short one today, still not really back in the mood for writing but I felt so guilty leaving you all without an update. Hope you enjoy it anyway._

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><p>"I should probably go then," Shizuo coughed out, hovering awkwardly by the door. What was he supposed to do now? He wouldn't have known what to do with just some other man, let alone Izaya, let alone someone he used to hate, was born to hate. What did he do then?<p>

Izaya was still sat at his desk, though he had moved shortly before in order to switch the crinkled white shirt for his own clothes so that Shizuo could leave. The blonde had hoped that it wouldn't be too ruffled for anyone else to notice, but the way that it creased down the front and lingered with the scent of the raven across the room left him with little hope that Tom wouldn't notice. The raven headed man in question looked up at those words, now dressed in one of those black shirts that dipped down over his collar bone to reveal a slither of skin.

"I suppose you should," He hummed out in reply, lacing his fingers together and allowing his chin to rest almost thoughtfully on them, like some kind of little chin rest, a little ledge that allowed his head to perch. "It's been fun, Shizu-chan,"

Shizuo half scoffed, half laughed in return but didn't reply. His hand closed around the door handle, turning it down and hearing it click open. What was he supposed to say anyway? This was all still so out of his comfort zone, still something that he didn't understand or know what he was supposed to deal with. Maybe it would never be comfortable; maybe it was never supposed to be. Maybe this was always supposed to feel slightly wrong, slightly crazy, and slightly monstrous. They still hadn't really spoken about what happened next. They still hadn't really talked about feelings or sex or just what the hell was going on. Maybe that was what was meant to happen, maybe that was a good thing, and maybe it didn't matter. He didn't know, he just didn't. He'd said he'd given up, but what had that even meant? Given up hating the louse, given up trying to understand what was going on, given up fighting that burning heat that seemed to pool in his stomach whenever the flea came too close these days, which one was it?

The blonde still hadn't spoken, still hadn't replied, made a noise other than that little half laugh he had just done. Izaya hadn't said anything else either, but was still just fixing him with that same cocky smirk just like he always did. There was just silence stretching, something with seemed more and more natural for them these days. It was ironic that could be so when in the past they had been nothing but loud, when their world had been filled with shouting and yelling and screaming, laughing, poking insults at the other, when their relationship had been violent and dark and mixed with the sounds of crashing objects and metal and whatever else that collided around them.

Shizuo turned then, his hand still curled around the door handle, this time pulling it open to allow him to leave. The door didn't so much as squeak when Shizuo pulled it open, not like his door, back home in Ikebukuro, that door with the fading letters and the un-oiled hinges. He was just staring back at the louse, and that louse was just staring back at him, as he moved, as Izaya sat, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, as if Shizuo wasn't feeling that uncertainty at his own actions creeping into him, as if Izaya didn't have that look in his eyes that always promised things he wouldn't like, as if all of this unnatural behaviour didn't suddenly seem like it was so right, so meant to be.

"Yeah," Shizuo finally huffed out, if only just to say something, if only just to break that silence and prompt Izaya to speak again. That silence, it was some comfortable, so awkward, he didn't know. This was all so different, so out of his range, and yet this seemed to be where the two of them had been heading all along, spiralling towards one tossed insult and email at a time. Funny that, really, so funny.

Ha, ha, ha.

Shizuo turned on his heel, effectively breaking that connection the two of them seemed to have picked up, that solid eye contact, turning, turning, turning and heading out of the door. Izaya let a little laugh ghost out of his mouth when he was greeted with the wide expanse of the blonde's back, raising his hand in a little half wave that the monster wouldn't see when he headed out without another word and the door closed shut behind him. He really hadn't the heart to tell Shizuo about just how crinkled that damn shirt was. It was funny, really. Really, it was.


	53. Chapter 53: Fighting Fate

**Author's Note: **_You'll all be pleased to hear that I'm finally getting back into this again after my little break. So yay! However, I am seeing Panic! At The Disco (eep!) again tomorrow night and I have another gig on Wednesday night too, so they'll be no updates for those two days. Sorry to leave you all hanging again!** Updates will be back to normal on Thursday**, promise! In the meantime, I have some other fics/oneshots posted if you want something to read while I am away._

_This chapter is dedicated to **Klepto-Kitty**, for leaving me an absolutely beautiful message that really got my confidence back up and helped me to see where I need to improve. Thank you to everyone else who sent in messages too, it means to world to see that people really do like this. Also, this has over 50,000 hits now! Just W O W. And now, I hope you enjoy!_

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><p>Shizuo was certain that fate was acting against him again, just like it had done for most of his life, just like he was sure it would do again in the future. Life could be good for a monster, but then Life would never let that last for very long. He had accepted that though, he'd had years to learn to accept it. That was fine, it was.<p>

He'd left the flea's house when it was still barely light, even by the time he had showered and managed to get his clothes back from the louse in question, crinkled and warm from the contact with his skin. He'd showered there, in that warm Shinjuku loft, to save time for himself later, not because of any cliché notion of what lovers are meant to do. No, no, it wasn't for anything like that. That just wasn't what this thing was, whatever it was, with him and the louse. They were not normal, they were not ordinary or typical like other lovers were, and nothing about them was average. They wouldn't, _couldn't_, simply fall into the normal way of things, that simple way of love like others so easily did, and Shizuo wasn't sure that he could anyway, whether his lover was the louse or not.

The original plan hadn't been for him to stay the night anyway; it hadn't been for him to end up in bed with the raven again. But that had been what had happened, and he had dealt with that, moved on, and formulated some new plan. That new plan had been to get back to his own place in Ikebukuro, to shower and change and make sure he was on time for work so Tom didn't suspect anything was going on. That hadn't been what had happened though; he'd woken later than he had intended, though still early, still barely morning. But there had still been time to do what he had wanted, to get back and change and carry on with his day.

Then he'd missed the first train back to Ikebukuro, due to some gaggle of old women lagging in front of him as he made his way through Shinjuku Station. Then there had been a delay on the train after that, some hold up on the line for nearly an hour due to railway work being done or something and he had arrived back in Ikebukuro with not nearly enough time to get back to his apartment and change or grab some breakfast. His stomach growled in protest at that, and it half reminded him of the rumbling of a raven he knew, purring out something that had sounded awfully like his name.

Yeah, he was damn certain this was fate screwing with him. Mother Nature was just stepping in to play some pranks on him, Karma finally pulling that weird little double reach around and returning the favour to him. Well that was fine, he guessed, he could deal with that; just so long as Tom didn't notice the crinkles in his clothes or the marks on his neck and collar bones. Yeah, that'd probably be the last damn straw if he did.

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><p>"Jesus, did you throw your iron at the wall or something?" Tom questioned with a laugh, filled with mirth and a half measure of seriousness. "That shirt is more wrinkled than your neighbour!"<p>

If looks really could kill, Shizuo was certain that Tom's back would have a handful of knives stuck out of it by now. The other man was walking ahead of the blonde, apparently oblivious to the dark frown that had settled like a rain cloud over Shizuo's head, creasing his brow just like his shirt. His lips lilted downwards at the corners, set in some twisted scowl that would have promised death or a short trip across the city, bruised and beaten, to anyway else. Yeah, fate really was messing with him. Of all the times for Tom to decide to be observant, to comment on something, it had to be that and it had to be now, didn't it? Yeah, of course his ruffled appearance would be the first thing Tom would notice. Crinkled shirt and still damp hair, how could he not?

He'd met his boss just a short while ago, on a street not too far from his apartment complex. That had been irritating, and ironic in a bitterly funny way. The blonde had half wondered if he had time to rush home and change first, until the other man had spotted him.

"My iron is fucking fine," Shizuo muttered out in reply, half hoping that Tom wouldn't hear and just continue on with his own theory. That would certainly save Shizuo the trouble, the awkwardness, of trying to explain otherwise. He never really liked lying to Tom, not when the other man had done so much for him. It didn't seem right, it didn't seem fair. Tom had given him a job when no one else really would, what right did Shizuo have then to lie to a man who had been that kind? He'd always felt strongly about that, and that wouldn't change now simply because of what he and the louse had been up to. He had stronger morals than that.

It still didn't mean that he was just going to give up and tell everything though. How would he even begin to justify something like that? How would he even be able to deal with the aftermath of such a revelation? He'd still not really accepted these feelings and these situations he found himself falling into with Izaya, so how could he even think about letting someone else in on that secret? Tom wasn't the kind of person to judge him, Shizuo knew that, but he could already see the look of quiet surprise that would twist the other man's face if he told him the truth. He didn't want to see that in reality. It was shameful. He couldn't deal with that, with other people knowing. No, not yet. Maybe not ever and maybe that was fine. A little secret never hurt anyone, did it?

"Well, I figured that was more likely than you wondering home with some new lover or something," Tom laughed again, turning to half look over his shoulder at Shizuo, who was still trailing behind him like an insolent child. Tom's hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers casually, just like usual. Shizuo's head snapped up at that, by which time Tom had already turned his head away, but not before noticing the movement with a quiet, inward chuckle to himself.

The blonde really was as clueless to his own outward behaviour as ever. Tom certainly didn't know all the sordid details of whatever was going, and he didn't really want to either, it wasn't his place to know, but it was obvious that someone or something had altered Shizuo's life, had come in and shaken it up. The change in his friend's behaviour was enough proof of that, even if Shizuo himself didn't seem to be noticing it. It made the brunette smile though, the little thing tweaking at his lips, almost threatening to blow into some kind of grin. Shizuo deserved to be happy after all he had been through as kid, all that bullying and that hassle and the like. Tom would be happy to see him settle down, if only for the sake of Ikebukuro remaining in one piece for a little longer.

"Tch," was all that came in reply from Shizuo. He couldn't deny that, could he? He'd already said he wouldn't lie to Tom, he'd already said that wouldn't change now. Outright refusal to answer or give details would have to be the back-up plan now that Tom had almost hit the nail on the head; the last resort of an almost desperate man.

He wasn't sure why he was so anxious to cover up whatever it was he had with Izaya, with that louse, the flea, that bastard he was meant to hate. Maybe that was just it, Shizuo was supposed to hate him, and if people were to find out that was no longer the case, then everything would change. He wasn't sure he was ready for that change; change was scary, terrifying, like flying off the handle and into the unknown, back into that chasm of black and emptiness to land who knew where. Maybe it was because he still hadn't really accepted the feelings that he guessed he knew he was feeling, these stirrings of attraction and lust and love, and maybe he didn't want anyone to know until he knew what they were. Maybe it was because it was the flea, because there would always be that part of him that had trouble keeping calm around him, keeping that temper in check. Maybe it was just for the thrill of keeping it hidden, like some little toy that he had found and the other children didn't know about. Maybe, maybe, maybe it didn't matter, just so long as it stayed hidden, for now, forever, who knew, who cared?

"Oh?" Tom called, the end of his voice rising in pitch in apparent surprise at seemingly guessing the reason after all. Shizuo could have cringed, who knew what sort of horrid questions would follow now? Tom was his friend, and it was only natural that a friend would enquire about any possible special someone in their friend's life. "I didn't realise you were seeing anyone,"

Shizuo had caught up with Tom by now, or Tom had slowed enough to allow him to do so, and the pair were walking side by side now, arm to arm. Shizuo had shoved his hands into his pockets too, fingers balling up into fists inside, though more from some kind of nerves, embarrassment, than anger at his boss, his friend. His head was tilted, down towards the floor, strands of blonde half falling to cover his face.

"We're not exactly— it's not like _that_," Shizuo admitted, raising one shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. He wasn't lying was he? Izaya and he hadn't clarified anything, hadn't made it official or really spoken of deeper feelings. They'd half acknowledged they were there, but neither had really done anything about it. He wasn't lying, not really, no. The very idea of them together was almost funny though, and Shizuo bit back a little laugh that seemed to want to tumble out. How odd would that be? To make it official, to make it a _thing_, not just this, whatever it was that they had now. He wasn't sure he wanted that, wasn't sure what that would be like. What did relationships entail normally? He imagined one with someone like Izaya wouldn't be anything like that.

"Ah, right," Tom nodded, smiling across at the blonde, as if what Shizuo had said made perfect sense, as if the answer hadn't been vague and airy and not really answering anything. "I guess it _would_ be a little too soon for anything official if this is a new thing,"

"Hm," Shizuo hummed back.

"So," the brunette spoke up again, softly, curiously. One of his hands rose from his pocket to rub at the back of his neck as they walked, "Do you like him?"

The two fell into silence, though only for a second or two, apparently both of them thinking on what had been said so far. It wasn't nearly as awkward as Shizuo had suspected it could be. He guessed Tom knew that he didn't exactly steer towards women, and that had always been what the blonde had been most worried about, but if this conversation was anything to go by, he'd worried for nothing. Tom was just as kind about that as he seemed to be with everything and everyone.

Shizuo didn't really know what to say to Tom's question though, because to be fair, he didn't really know the answer yet. Well, he supposed he did, but there was that other side of him too, still fighting, still not allowing him to give up all the way, to accept these feelings completely. He wondered if that was a good thing or not. Him, liking the louse? The idea should be mad, it should be crazy, ridiculous. Once upon a time it would have made him mad, filled with rage, and now, well, now he was here, considering the question with a quiet indifference. Now he was actually contemplating that he might. Madness, that's what it was, mad.

"I— I think I—"

"Ah! Shizu-chan!" cooed a voice from across the road before Shizuo had a chance to answer. The blonde looked up, and so did Tom, as if they both hadn't recognised the voice already. Shizuo wasn't sure what to think or what to do when his golden eyes settled on the sleek outline of a raven across the street, wearing that devious smirk as if it were all the clothing he needed. "Just who I was hoping to run into!"

Yeah, fate was _definitely_ screwing with him.


	54. Chapter 54: Evolving

**Author's Note: **_I had a wonderful time at my gigs on Tuesday and Wednesday night. I was right at the centre by the barrier for both, woOoOo! Brendon Urie was less than a foot away and he stripped and All Time Low were just UGUUU FAB. I'm a bit bruised now from moshing and whatnot, but it was all worth it._

_This story now has over 100 favourites and update alerts each, so I really want to do something to celebrate that. So if you guys want to send me some little ideas for a one-shot or a fan-art you'd want to see given a story or something, I'll pick one randomly and write it~ Well, enjoy the update!_

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><p>The door had barely closed behind Shizuo when Izaya pushed himself away from his desk and his work. He threw his arms up by his head, like some kind of tom cat stretching out his muscles before he was about to pounce. It was still early, but he could already watch the people jump start into another day of life, just like normal, just like his whole world hadn't changed itself overnight. Fascinating, just captivating, that's what humans were, just like he was, just like Shizuo was.<p>

"Are you never going to stop surprising me, Shizu-chan?" Izaya chuckled to himself, the words ghosting out of his lips, still parted in a smirk.

He couldn't see the blonde making his way out of Shinjuku, through the streets, towards home. He couldn't hear him anymore, but he could still feel that lingering presence of the monster in the loft. There was some lasting taste of gold in the air, some unquiet rest in the silence as if Shizuo was still there, breathing, scoffing, smoking. He could hear the hum of his computer in the background. It was madness, and yet he really had never felt more content. Funny, that's what it was, funny that it was some kind of shift with Shizuo and he that had caused that feeling.

The sound of one of the mobile phones perched on his desk broke through that quiet little moment, the restful state of his mind. Izaya blinked, waiting for a second or so before turning back to his desk in order to answer the shrill cries from the device. The name of the caller flashed up on the screen when his eyes fell onto it, and his brow crinkled in mild annoyance at the little letters.

"Ah, how nice to hear from you, Shiki~" The information broker greeted with a laugh, only half bothering to hide the little edge in his tone. The two of them hadn't spoken in a while, not since that day when Izaya had broken down and forced his mouth on Shiki's like it was years ago. That crack in his mask that the older man had seen, it was embarrassing, it was foolish and Izaya didn't want it bringing up again, so he would keep up that mask for Shiki; only Shizuo was going to see that change in him, only the monster.

"You sound well," came the reply from the other end. Izaya couldn't read the tone of Shiki's voice, he never could, why should that be any different now? The Yakuza had a poker face to rival the very best, one that Izaya's keen eyes could never probe, not even now after years of practice reading those expressions.

"Am I not meant to be?" he questioned, shooting the words back quickly, not even pausing, not hesitating. Izaya wasn't sure if Shiki had refrained from making contact on purpose or not, he decided quickly he didn't really care either way.

"Perhaps not," Shiki laughed from the other end of the phone, and his tone sounded teasing, mirthful. Izaya's frown deepened. "You can see why I might be concerned when Mr Heiwajima comes to visit you, and _so late_ too,"

Izaya faltered then, just for a second or so, uncertain of what he was meant to say in reply to that. He didn't question how Shiki knew that, because he knew the older man had contacts in all sorts of places, just like he did. He also knew that Shiki had taken to keeping tabs on him in the past few years; the people set to trail him every now and then didn't do a great job of keeping hidden, and it never took him long to slip them from his tail. This was something else though; this was touching on something that was still new to him, something uncertain and delicate, like a cut, like a bruise.

"How lovely of you to be concerned for me," Izaya spoke up again, "But I think I've already told you that's not your place to do anymore,"

"Oh?" Shiki laughed again. If Shiki had noticed the pause, he didn't mention it, didn't call him out on it. "I suppose that job will be for Heiwajima to do now then?"

"I don't need anyone to look after me," Izaya bit back. He didn't have the self-restraint to keep himself composed that time. He knew he was changing, step-by-step, kiss-by-kiss with that monster, but that didn't mean that—

Izaya had accepted he had feelings for the brute, that he was attracted to him, but the raven didn't like what Shiki was implying there. He was strong, just as strong as Simon was, as Shizuo was, he could look after himself just fine. When he had been younger, sure, he'd been weak, he'd been quiet and scrawny and too damn fragile; but now was different, now he had built up all his walls, all his confidence. He didn't need Shizuo to look out for him, just like he didn't need Shiki to do so either.

"Certainly not that damn brute,"

"Of course not," the older man replied. Izaya could hear him exhale on the other end of the line, guessed that he was smoking again. He could almost see it curling out and lingering around him in that little office in the underbelly of Ikebukuro. There was a little pause between the two of them then, quiet and awkward. Shiki was the first to break it again, with a little sigh. "One minute it seems that I understand you, and then you change completely. I half wonder if you do it on purpose sometimes,"

"Hm? But I never play games with you," Izaya hummed back, "Do you want me to start?"

"No," Shiki mused with another laugh, and for a minute Izaya half fancied the two of them were back in those old days, when their conversations weren't tainted with the awkward memory of the past, those hot touches and fleeting kisses. "But that's not what I meant really,"

"Do enlighten me then," the raven half challenged. He was intrigued now, his interest piqued.

"You and Shizuo, you fight and you hate each other for years, and now here you are meeting with him in the middle of night," the older man answered, taking a short pause again, as if contemplating whether or not he should, whether he should continue. "I don't understand what you intend to gain from this, that's all. If this is just another one of those games you like to play— sometimes I think that I really don't understand you at all anymore,"

"I don't understand myself either. Maybe people don't ever really understand themselves," Izaya replied easily, as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world, as if Shiki should know that already. He was complex and he was complicated and even he couldn't define himself, so how could Shiki? How could anyone? There was another pause; Izaya had lost count of how many that had been now. He wasn't going to let that last though, he was tired of this now, tired of Shiki trying to pry past those walls that he'd raised again, trying to pry into somewhere that he had no right to be anymore. Then who did, Shizuo? Izaya supposed that was the logical choice, and yet he wasn't sure if he was ready enough yet to open all the way up to the brute, despite his bold actions, his near declarations of love and his little marks littering the blonde's body.

"All I can do is keep on evolving," he sighed, and without another word, clicked the little disconnect button on the phone to hang up. Shiki was left with nothing but the buzzing of the dead line. Izaya supposed that deserved him right for prying. The phone was quickly tossed back to where it had been resting before it had rung.

It was still morning, growing lighter outside with each breath of time that passed. He was already dressed, had changed into that tight t-shirt and black trousers when Shizuo had needed his shirt back to head out for work. He wondered if the blonde was home yet. He'd heard there was repair work being done on the train lines, but he'd neglected to tell the brute that. He'd remember to do so in future, just out of politeness of course. Spying his jacket on the back of one of the sofas, Izaya stood to head for it and shrug it on.

Letting the smile slip quietly away from his face, the raven flew the nest, off to Ikebukuro once again. He'd just keep evolving, _on and on and on_.


	55. Chapter 55: Keeping Up Appearances

**Author's Note: **_So I've finally planned the rest of this story, and I can assure you all now that it will be __**at least**__another ten or so chapters now before this ends. That's just what I have planned in detail at the minute, I've still got to plan the rest of the plot into detailed chapters, so it's probably going to end up being more than that. I would say at least chapter 70 at this rate. Aren't you all glad to hear that? I'm really excited to write and share some of these scenes, ._

_Well, I hope you enjoy the update! It's only a little one tonight, but please don't forget to review! It's always really lovely to read all of your little reactions. (●⌒∇⌒●)_

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><p>"<em>Ah! Shizu-chan!" cooed a voice from across the road before Shizuo had a chance to answer. The blonde looked up, and so did Tom, as if they both hadn't recognised the voice already. Shizuo wasn't sure what to think or what to do when his golden eyes settled on the sleek outline of a raven across the street, wearing that devious smirk as if it were all the clothing he needed. "Just who I was hoping to run into!"<em>

It wasn't often that Shizuo was uncertain in his actions; he was one of those people who usually just acted before they really thought about their actions, acting more on instinct rather than logic or reasoning like other people might. He was used to acting on impulse when it came to the flea, but things had changed now hadn't they? Now that their relationship had taken that shift and the two of them had fallen into the abyss, still freefalling downwards, he didn't know how he was meant to behave. There was that internal conflict rearing its head once again, bubbling inside his chest like some kind of flu trying to work its way in. There was still that part of him that was screaming to yell the louse's name and set about chasing him throughout the streets just like normal, and yet there was that other voice in the front of his mind now. It was quiet, but insistent, telling him that he didn't want to do that anymore, that maybe the louse wasn't quite so deserving of a metal object smashing into the side of his head as he had once been.

He didn't let that uncertainty rule him for long though. He knew he couldn't, or someone would think something was up. Yeah, he knew that he might not be the smartest guy around, but he wasn't that stupid, he knew how to cover things up, how to keep his tracks hidden. He didn't need this, whatever it was, with the flea exposed just yet; maybe he never needed it exposed, so he couldn't let his mask slip in public. Izaya was the only person who would ever get to see that change, that little slip in his anger, and maybe that was just the way things were meant to be. It was funny, that the man who caused him more anger, more trouble, that anyone else in his life, was now proving to be someone more than just that.

The blonde cast a quick glance at Tom, finding the other man regarding Izaya with a calm, almost indifferent gaze; meaning that the momentary pause he found himself gripped in had gone unnoticed. He guessed the other man was long since used to Izaya tracking them down with the intention of pushing Shizuo's buttons and that he assumed that was the reason for the raven's sudden appearance now. Of course that would be what he assumed, Shizuo quickly scolded himself, it wasn't as if he had known of what had transpired with the two of them the night before, in a warm Shinjuku loft, tangled in bed sheets of snowy white.

The look on Izaya's face told him that he had noticed the reluctance of Shizuo to act, that he knew Shizuo was acknowledging that something with them had changed. That was almost enough incentive for Shizuo to act, if only just to wipe that smug smirk from the flea's face. Their relationship had shifted, that was true, but it would never be possible for their natures to get along all of the time; they conflicted, they always had done and probably always would do. Shizuo guessed that was what made this all so dangerous, all so uncertain, because they were just as unpredictable too.

Shizuo could feel his brow crinkle into a frown, a scowl, but he didn't really feel the emotion that should be behind it. He didn't feel that same anger and rage that normally drove him to act, to stalk towards the louse with clenched fists as he was doing now. Instead there was only a mild irritation at himself, his own feelings, and a tinge of embarrassment that the flea had called him out on that split-second reluctance; or maybe it was because the memory of the previous night was still with him, that all it would take to bring him crashing down in front of Tom and the handful of other people around was a word from Izaya telling them everything that had happened with them. Was love supposed to be this risky? Did it normally involve relying on the other person not to bring you crashing down? He still didn't know. He wasn't nearly as virginal as he had been and yet that that didn't mean that he knew the complex, twisted way in which love worked now. Shizuo doubted he'd ever really understand it.

Though not a tangible thing, Shizuo could feel Tom's eyes on his back, something that he normally wasn't aware of in these confrontations with Izaya. Everything was different now though, and he knew he was analysing every one of his own moves, making sure that it was just as it should be, that he wasn't slipping up. He could feel Izaya's eyes on him too, burning with amusement and a look that Shizuo could easily read. Izaya knew what he was doing, almost as if he could see the cogs turning inside of Shizuo's mind, hidden beneath a sea of golden strands.

"What are you doing here?" Shizuo hissed, his fist curling in the fabric of Izaya's t-shirt. He couldn't let the mask slip, he had to keep up this act in public, and just hope that the louse would go along with it. He wasn't ready for this to all be out in the open, not nearly ready. All this uncertainty, this hesitation, it was going to be the death of him.

"We have unfinished business," Izaya replied, and his words held no real emotion, as if he wasn't sure how he was meant to be acting either. Shizuo guessed this was new, foreign and strange, to both of them. The raven's smirk lowered slightly, and his eyes flickered over Shizuo's shoulder towards where Tom was still stood, watching them with a lazy interest. "But I can see you're busy,"

"You just saw me an hour ago," the blonde shot back, this time a pinch of genuine annoyance creeping into his voice. If Izaya picked up on that, he didn't let it show. "What the hell kind of unfinished business can we have?"

The raven's grin shot back up at that, and he half wiggled an eyebrow playfully, as if he were about to retort with some kind dirty response. Apparently reading the look on Shizuo's face put him off the idea, for the smirk slipped a little again, "Us,"

Shizuo blinked, and the frown on his forehead deepened. That reply had all but pushed Tom from his mind, making the blonde a little more concerned now with finding out what that meant than keeping up his mask for his employer. He'd just shrug it off later; just tell him they were arguing intensely. It had worked before, right?

"We're unfinished, we're not defined," Izaya continued when it looked like Shizuo wasn't going to, "What are we, Shizuo? Who are we? What the _hell_ is this?"

Shizuo let his fingers unclench from Izaya's shirt, half shoving the raven a little way away from himself, back up towards the street that he had no doubt come from; though there was no malice behind it, not anymore. He wasn't used to hearing the raven curse. Silence followed, and once again Shizuo could feel Tom's eyes digging into his back, burning past the clothes like hot rays of heat, like sharp jets of cold.

"We'll talk later," Shizuo muttered, taking a step back, signalling the end of the conversation. Izaya seemed to understand that, because he smirked, stepping backwards too, tossing an insult at Shizuo, just in some attempt to keep up their normal mask, to keep everything hidden, tucked away, just like it was supposed to be. It was just like him, some secret of the night, buried in the corners of the underbelly of Ikebukuro.

Shizuo turned after that, properly, back to Tom and back to work. He didn't look back as the flea left, and neither did Izaya. Tom's face had that look about it, the one that told Shizuo he was confused, that he wanted to know what had just happened, again. The blonde said nothing though, just like always.

"_What are we, Shizuo? Who are we?"_

Yeah, that really was the question, wasn't it?


	56. Chapter 56: Waiting

**Author's Note: **_This is up later than normal, I didn't start writing until later because of work and stuff today. A couple of my other works will also most likely get a long overdue update tomorrow or Monday – I've got the day off of college, so woo!_

_I want to thank each and every one of you who have reviewed this monster! There are over 300 of them now, and I still can't believe it. You guys are absolutely adorable, and I love you like Iza-chan loves his ootoro. Keep up the good work!_

_**Well,**__ this update was a lot of fun to write, I really enjoyed writing this side to them both. So I really hope you like it just as much as I do!_

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><p>Izaya Orihara didn't like waiting. He was used to having things done for him right there and then, or if that wasn't the case, he was used to doing just as he pleased whenever he felt like it. Waiting was as foreign to him as the other host of new feelings that he had been feeling lately, and he wasn't sure he really liked it all that much.<p>

After his little meeting with Shizuo that morning, the raven had ended up standing outside of the blonde's apartment door waiting for him to return home from work. He'd tried wondering around Ikebukuro, getting sushi to pass the time before heading home, but he'd been unable to quell the desire to visit Shizuo after his work day ended, to talk this out. The oaf wasn't due back for another ten minutes or so, and though Izaya had only been waiting that long already, it already felt like hours, and his whole body was itching with irritation at the lack of action. It was madness that he was going to such lengths, and if he was really honest, he wasn't even all that sure why he was pushing the issue so much; but here he was, doing just that.

He'd had a long time to think about why, all day in fact, ever since he had hung up on Shiki that morning and left his loft in a huff. He supposed that was what had kick started this urgency to meet with the monster again, though it had only been a short while since they had parted. Shiki had said things that had brushed up against Izaya in the wrong way; he'd implied that Izaya _needed_ him, and the raven wasn't going through that again. He didn't _need_ anyone. Maybe that was why he had to talk to Shizuo, to explain, to talk. Izaya didn't like the implication that Shizuo was the one in charge, he didn't like the feeling that Shiki thought the raven was the same weak boy he had been, that he was just clinging on to the blonde. It wasn't like that.

It had been madness to try and track Shizuo down in Ikebukuro and do that face to face though. It wasn't something that he normally would have done, or maybe it was and the new him just didn't remember that was how he had used to act. That's what it was, wasn't it? An act. Some elaborate show for Shiki and himself. He had gone that morning to prove a point and show that despite him spiralling out of control and changing into someone else, he was still in control of his own actions. It was rational, really, considering they'd gone to bed together a handful of times, to want to find out where they stood.

Izaya didn't know. He doubted that Shizuo had ever really thought into what they were doing that deeply. He knew the brute better than anyone else did after all, and he knew that Shizuo would have one hell of a hard time working past the 'oh shit, I just fucked the louse' stage. It was almost adorable. Of course the monster wouldn't see the deeper side of things, the more serious things. That should give Izaya all the excuse in the world to not have to define this, to just keep it loose and casual, just the way he liked his relationships, his sex. And yet there was that part of him itching to prove Shiki wrong, wrong about whatever the hell he meant.

Izaya was proud, and one day he knew that would be the death of him. His pride and his stubbornness would be his undoing. It was only a matter of time, but he guessed he'd always known that.

Shizuo had been funny that morning though. Izaya's lips curled up into a half smile at the memory of it. He'd watched the blonde try and act like nothing was going on, just like normal, as if they were the same old cat and mouse duo, fire and water, light and dark. The effort had been admirable, and Izaya guessed he was probably the only one who would have been able to see past those beautiful acting skills the blonde had shown that morning. The raven made a mental note to ask Kasuka if he'd been giving Shizuo private lessons.

The flickering of the light perched above his head in the little hallway was really started to get on Izaya's nerves. He'd been stood outside of the door to the apartment on the third floor for long enough now to pick out all the little other flaws too; the way the paint had chipped off of the walls in certain places, the fading letters on each door and the faint tap, tap, tap of a drip that sounded like it was coming from some kind of broken pipe. Izaya knew that Shizuo wasn't exactly made of money, but he was certain that the blonde could afford something better than this. The whole apartment complex was shitty, looked like it was ready to be torn down and replaced with something better. He knew maybe that he was just used to the luxury of his loft in Shinjuku, but that thought was quickly shoved out of his mind. No, this place was as bad as it looked.

Shizuo wasn't as proud as he was though. That was one of his saving graces. The blonde was humble and modest and unassuming, so maybe they really were a good match after all, maybe they needed that balance. No, maybe it was just Izaya that needed it. He guessed that was how he could stomach to live in a place like this, or maybe the cheap rent and lax rules about smoking indoors had something to do with it.

Time seemed to crawl, peeling at Izaya's skin, making it itch and tingle. Izaya Orihara didn't like waiting, but for Shizuo Heiwajima, he'd do just that.

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><p>Shizuo Heiwajima was always tired after a long day at work, even more so today after the morning he'd had. Normally he liked to come home and run a long bath, letting the hot warm and steam just melt away the aches of the day and the troubles of the mind. He liked to retreat to his sofa or his room with a glass of milk and a quick smoke to read. Shizuo liked reading. He wasn't the best at doing so, or the fastest, but it always helped wind him down after a day at work.<p>

All of those plans went soaring out of the window like the beams shooting down the hallway from the flickering light when Shizuo spotted the figure waiting outside of his apartment. There would be no hot bath now, no milk, no smoke and certainly no quiet time alone to finish the last chapter of that book that Celty had lent to him; just a raven with a wicked smirk, fluttering its feathers indignantly on his doorstep.

There was only a slight falter in Shizuo's footsteps as he continued on towards his door. He guessed Izaya picked up on that, because the raven's head turned from looking down the hallway to face Shizuo. His lips tilted up at that, the corners tweaking up into that smirk that had used to rub Shizuo all the wrong ways. When that had changed he didn't know, when this had all become so okay, so normal, he didn't know either. Somewhere between the first forceful mouth to mouth contact to their last fuck that morning he guessed, maybe it had always been okay and he'd never really noticed.

"For a stalker, you're doing a pretty shitty job," Shizuo spoke up, moving past Izaya and reaching into his pocket to fumble for his door key. It seemed the most natural thing in the world now to just talk to the information broker, to joke with him, and not send him flying through the air like he had used to do. His tone was gruffer than it was when talking to someone else, though he guessed that was because there was some part of him that still didn't think it was right to just be nice to the man who had made his life hell for so long. The door lock clicked under his hand as he turned the key, the hinges squeaking as it opened.

No doubt picking up on the teasing edge to Shizuo's words, Izaya laughed. The sound echoed a little in the hallway, rebounding over Shizuo, washing over his form and soaking into his skin, his pores. When had that sound changed from something horrible to this? It dripped with gold, danced with the scent of summer and it was pulling him in and in and in like a spider stringing along a fly. He guessed that was the story of their relationship, always had been, and always would be.

"Well, maybe I got tired of hiding," Izaya replied after a moment, following Shizuo through the doorway into his home with all the grace of a wave, a silent ghost. There was amusement in his voice too, just like that delicious laughter, but Shizuo got the feeling this was serious business too.

"You're weird," Shizuo replied, moving about his apartment as if Izaya being there made no different. He kicked off his shoes by the door, leaving the raven to shut the door behind them and do the same. Izaya laughed again at that.

"We're all a little weird," the information broker countered. Shizuo had moved into the living room area by then, but he could hear the sound of Izaya taking the time to remove his own shoes. The little act of politeness seemed so out of place that he almost wanted to laugh, _almost_. He managed to keep it inside, if only because Izaya was still talking, and he was captivated by where this conversation was going now. Had it ever been like this before? He didn't think so.

"And life is a little weird too," Izaya was saying, now moving into the room after Shizuo. He had taken off his jacket too, just wearing black and black and a smirk, _that_ smirk, brilliant white. "And sometimes we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours and we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness, and we call it _lov_—"

"So that's why you're here," Shizuo cut in, picking up immediately on the tone of the conversation. He should have realised that this morning was something that would come swinging back into his life soon enough, that Izaya wouldn't let something like that go. He was stubborn, but the louse was so much worse than he was. It was almost endearing, _almost_.

"Of course," came the reply. Shizuo's hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, shoulders hunched awkwardly. Izaya's body seemed to radiate pure confidence, the total opposite to the blonde, oozing certainty that the raven didn't even really feel. "I'm not here to deliver anymore potted plants for you,"

The two fell into a quick silence after that, both of them merely regarding the other with a cool glance. It was pleasant, and neither was really in any hurry to break it. This was still so foreign to both of them, and why would they want to go changing it any further? Any move now would send the both of them toppling further down into the abyss in which they had already started to fall.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Izaya was the first to break the silence, and Shizuo was quick to look to him when he spoke. The louse laughed again, and this was a different laugh than the others, darker, lower. It sent chills through Shizuo, tingles in his skin and stoked the fire in his blood. Had the room gotten hotter all of a sudden?

"Yeah," he agreed, and let his own low rumble whisper out of his mouth. It mixed with Izaya's, the two sounds dancing and entangling in the air for a few seconds before silence claimed the room once again. This was awkward and Shizuo didn't like it.

"What is this, then?" the blonde questioned, his words coming out blunter than he had meant them. Izaya didn't reply for a moment, seeming to ponder the words before letting his shoulders lift and fall in a shrug.

"That's why I'm here, I don't know either," Izaya answered. The two of them had stood opposite each other in the room, directly facing, eyes locked. "I know I don't hate you anymore, I know it feels good when you fuck me. So, where _does_ that leave us Shizuo?"

The raven was moving now, Shizuo could see that. He was stalking, closer and closer and closer towards the blonde, still wearing that smirk of his. This was madness, truly it was. He didn't understand how Izaya seemed so okay with all of this, how he seemed so in control, because Shizuo's mind was fraying, frantically trying to knot together again. The information broker wanted this fixed now, he wanted it clarified, to have all of this tied up in one neat bundle. And yet he wasn't going to just barge in and tell Shizuo how it was like he might have done before. That wasn't what people in love did, was it?

"Would it be mad to consider this something more?" Izaya whispered, low, practically purring. "More than just a casual kiss and a quick caress beneath the sheets? Something that takes us both somewhere, that translates both of us, changes us?"

"I decided you were mad a long time ago," Shizuo laughed back, as if that was all the answer needed. He was suddenly all too aware of the sound of his own breathing and his heart thudding in his ears as Izaya came closer, closer, closer. "Guess I always knew I was a little bit crazy too,"

"Oh, of course we're crazy," Izaya laughed in the quiet dark. "Everyone in Ikebukuro is,"

"This is mad," Shizuo muttered again, and his tone was low, quiet, like some child needing direction, a puppy left in the rain, alone.

Another flutter of silence fell over the two of them, shattered by the flurry of mouth on mouth, fighting a battle that neither would concede. Izaya was practically panting when they broke apart, Shizuo's cheeks flushed.

"When love is not madness, it is not love," the raven grinned, and reached his mouth back up to Shizuo's.


	57. Chapter 57: Lovebites

**Author's Note: **_This is just a filler chapter tonight, no real addition to the plot, just a little bit of sort-of smutty goodness to keep us all going until the next update. _

_I'm also in the middle of writing my own sort-of original work too! Well, it also fits in the 'Harry Potter' genre as it's set 'at Hogwarts' but all the characters and plot mentioned in them – aside from professors etc – are my own. Maybe some of you will like to read it when it's posted? I'm still not sure whether to put it here or on FictionPress – what do you all think?_

_One reviewer also asked me about my Tumblr, so I thought I would mention it here too. There are links to both of my blogs on my profile, though '**angryghosts**' is more active than the other. You should send me a message or s/t and have a chat sometime! _

_Well, on with the update. I have something big planned for the next update, just you wait guys, just you wait. It's going to be good! ;-) /Kiwi out/  
><em>

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><p>"A-ah!" Izaya couldn't rein in the little cry that twisted from his mouth. It seemed that lately he had trouble reining in anything when it came to the blonde monster now flush against him.<p>

Shizuo had brought their lips back together again when their words had disappeared into the dark, the two clashing with that delicious pressure that Izaya delighted in. One hand had snaked its way up to Izaya's hair, fingers clenching around the raven strands and tug, tug, tugging, sending tingles burning down the informant's spine. This all seemed so natural now, touching him, kissing him, feeling that heat pressed tightly to his cool skin. Izaya wondered why they had never fallen into this before, this world of heat and touching and feeling, especially when it felt so _fuck_—

Izaya didn't really care how they were making their way through the apartment; all he cared about was getting more of that heat, of reaching the bedroom and falling into the sheets with the monster fused to his skin. His hands had slipped themselves under Shizuo's arms, reaching up towards the blonde's back, tugging at his clothes, digging in his nails. Izaya didn't really care when he felt the two of them bump against the doorway on their way into the bedroom; the stinging of the hard contact was lost to him, the trivial pain merely adding to the tingles firing across his skin. It was entirely different to what life had been like with Shiki, entirely different to what he had felt with his other lovers; it was dizzying, intoxicating, _beautifully monstrous_. There was no way he was letting anyone else have a piece of Shizuo again, this was his now, it all belonged to him.

"I don't remember you being this good before," Izaya chuckled, sprawling across the bed. His cheeks were flushed, chest rising and falling in some erratic manner that seemed to match the patter of his heartbeat, "Have you been practicing just for me?"

Shizuo merely rumbled out a little growl in response, practically crawling up the bed after the raven to hover over him. Izaya laughed at that, he couldn't help it, but the husky little sound was promptly cut off by Shizuo's mouth pressing insistently onto his again. There was a roughness to his kiss, one that was distinctly Shizuo, one that Izaya knew he would always remember. It was hard and it was commanding, and yet there was that little hint of uncertainty too. It was something that told the raven that the brute still wasn't sure if he was doing this right, still wasn't comfortable with his abilities. If Izaya had been anyone else, or more truthfully if his pride had been less stubborn, he'd have sung Shizuo's praises until the sun rose if only to get the blonde to realise that he had some talent, that he knew just what to do to get his blood boiling, his trousers tightening.

The raven threw his arms up and around Shizuo's neck, letting out a series of pleased little mewls when lips that had been fused with his suddenly started trailing a line of heated kisses down his throat and jaw, nipping at the skin. His fingers curled tightly around the material of Shizuo's shirt collar, the sound of the blonde's low chuckle reaching his ears. Nothing else mattered outside of that world and those lips moving so deftly against his skin. The blonde's hands had started moving too, roaming down and under that flimsy fabric against Izaya's chest, and one cheeky little nibble at his neck had the lean man arching up from the mattress and into Shizuo's chest. The blonde seemed to find that really fucking funny, that chuckle ghosting into Izaya's ear again. The two of them rose then, moving up into a little seated position. Izaya tucked himself into Shizuo's lap, his arms still wrapped tightly around the blonde's neck.

Izaya slipped his other down between their bodies, fingering the buttons of Shizuo's waistcoat, his shirt. The blonde let out a little mutter of a moan of his own when lithe finger brushed against the exposed slither of his chest. Izaya couldn't help but find it a little amusing that their positions could switch so easily; Shizuo was the stronger one, he was the one to force Izaya down to the bed and take him, but Izaya knew what he was doing, he was the one who had to guide Shizuo through this little dance. Shizuo liked to think he was in charge, did he? Izaya would just have to show him and Shiki too, that no one kept him penned down. He was in control of himself, of everything he did. No one put Izaya Orihara in the corner, not even Shizuo Heiwajima and that smouldering kiss of his.

His hands rose to Shizuo's shoulders once all of the buttons had been opened, and slipped the shirt off of his shoulders, dragging it down his back and off, off, off of the blonde. He couldn't stop the little smirk that tweaked at his lips on spotting that all of his little marks still peppering Shizuo's neck, staking his claim. They varied in shade; the older ones had already started to fade, and yet the ones from just the previous day still stained his skin, standing out against the cool hue of the blonde's neck and collar bones.

"My, my, my! Look at all these dirty little marks," Izaya snickered, his tongue trailing a little path along the blonde's throat. "Well, I hope this will serve as a reminder to you Shizu-chan, you belong to me now~"

Shizuo didn't seem to like the sound of that, because he growled again, his brow crinkling in a little scowl. Izaya found the low rumble and vibration against his skin more attractive than he probably should have, but who cared anymore? It was mad, it was love, and he didn't care anymore. His lips were still twisted into a smirk, quickly mirrored by the feral grin now taking over Shizuo's face.

"You're the woman in this relationship," came the low response, "_Damn louse_,"

Izaya laughed again, and the two kissed once more, as if it were just the natural way of the world, just the way things were meant to be now. The blonde wasted no time in discarding the rest of their clothes after that, his hands and mouth moving with a new sense of urgency. It seemed like time crashed together when Shizuo's hands had lowered between his legs, when they kissed again, when he'd felt Shizuo himself fuse with him, joining him, completing him. They just flew through that world of heat and lust and delicious passion. Shizuo was rough, unbridled, and Izaya was quickly beginning to thrive on the low grunts and dirty chuckles that he managed to bring out of the blonde. The raven was sure that he'd be feeling it for days, his muscles aching with that delightful burn, littered with nips and bites and bruises. But Izaya wasn't complaining, not when the brute managed to tug mewls and moans and sharp cries from his mouth, not when he seemed to have all of his body figured out, not when he seemed to know just how to set it on fire over and over and over. He wasn't sure how long they'd moved together, how long they'd grinded and panted and cried for each other. Nothing outside of that world mattered anymore.

Well, if Shizuo kept giving him this heat, these lingering touches, that hard pressure against his leg, then Izaya didn't give a damn what he was in this relationship. Just so long as this feeling never went away again.

"_U-Uhn!"_

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><p>Shizuo knew it was late when he finally hit the mattress, rolling from where he had fallen onto Izaya, breaking their connection and sliding out of the raven's heated body. The city lights had lit up by now, streaming into the bedroom through the window where the curtains still lay open, and the sky outside was as dark as the hair of the man in bed beside him. He wasn't sure how late it was, how long they'd been at it, but the blonde quickly decided it didn't matter either way. It wasn't as if he had to be anywhere later, or even tomorrow. The weekend seemed to have rolled around at the perfect time.<p>

His whole body sang with satisfaction, each muscle and fibre of his being was sated and tingling with that liquid gold, hot and content. The flushed face of the raven beside him seemed to say the same, and Shizuo couldn't help the little smirk that tugged the corners of his mouth at the site of the lean body beside him, eyes flickering shut. He half wondered how it had come to this, how he was suddenly so okay with something like this. Those thoughts didn't linger for too long, quickly pushed from his mind by the forceful approach of sleep that was rapidly claiming him.

Mere moments away from the comfort of sleep, the blonde wrapped his fingers around one of Izaya's slim wrists, tugging the other man into his chest and pressing a light kiss to the cool fingers. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was just some cliché notion of what lovers are meant to do, maybe it was because he wanted that body against his, maybe that didn't matter. The raven didn't say anything, or if he did, it was lost to Shizuo as he finally tumbled headfirst into a world of beautiful dreams.

Whoever would have thought it would come to this one day? Shizuo wouldn't have, but then, there always is a first time for everything, even for a monster like him.


	58. Chapter 58: Knock, Knock, Knocking

**Author's Note: **_I've got some essays to be doing for college, but I wanted to get this little chapter up because it's something I've been excited about happening for a while now, weeeeeelp._

_No matter what happens, it will always be my head-canon that Izaya is an early bird and Shizuo is a proper grump ass in the morning. ALWAYS. This chapter is for __**vikymarvel**__, in the hopes that Iza-chan's little flirting will appease her fangirl mind for now._

_Well, without further ado, onwards with the update! Hopefully the little twist will make up for the length, eh~?_

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><p>The first thing that Izaya noticed when he awoke that morning was that it was warm. It was clearly morning, and from the brightness of the light streaming in through the window, it was probably closer to noon than anything else. No, it was that warmth that hit him first, striking him softly as his mind clawed its way back to consciousness. He was used to waking into warmth of course, he always made sure his Shinjuku loft was delightfully toasty, even in the depths of winter; but <em>this<em>, he wasn't used to this sort of heat. This was enveloping him, circling around him and drawing him in, though not in some kind of smothering, capturing way that Izaya would have shied from. Rather this was something new, delightfully so, something that he found himself drawn deeper into, craving more of. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when he had finally shaken the prying fingertips of sleep from himself, that he realised where that source of heat was coming from. Shizuo Heiwajima himself.

The two of them had fallen together at some point during their slumber, for Izaya now found his cheek planted firmly against something that was distinctly Shizuo. There was a chest before him, naked and marred with scars that looked all too brutal up close, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, accompanied by the firm thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat; all signs to the raven that the blonde was still fast asleep, still lost somewhere in a daze of dreams and normality that he wasn't able to attain in his real life no doubt. His arms had entwined around Izaya, as if to pen the informant to his chest, his hands resting quietly on the small of the raven's back. Izaya's own hands had been just as naughty while he had been asleep it seemed, one had simply come to rest on the oaf's chest, tucked between their bodies, still nearly flush against each other; the other had found its way to settle on Shizuo's waist, hanging lazily over the man's side as if that was perfectly normal, just where it belonged.

Izaya simply blinked at the body next to him, a little frown twisting at his brow, but he made no effort to move from where he lay. It was funny that this should feel so comfortable and so natural, as if this was the sort of relationship he had been meant to fall into for a long time now. He still couldn't shake that little feeling that this was all so odd though, _wrong_, and he doubted that he ever would. It wasn't just because it was Shizuo Heiwajima laying there, encircling him in that warm hold, because Izaya had mostly soared past that obstacle. He'd dealt with that in a manner of speaking, had learnt to look past it. No, if he really thought about it, this whole scenario was odd to him. He'd never really been in something like this, whatever the hell it was. Shiki had never exactly hung around for cuddles in the afterglow of a passionate night, and his lovers that had followed after were never permitted to stay long enough to get a good morning grope. And then here he was, ensnared in the heated, delicious warmth of a monster, one who was supposed to hate him with every part of his very being. He should hate this, should be shoving Shizuo out of the way and leaving now that his body had found its satisfaction, its peak, sated again.

And yet that heat was too delicious to give up, the strangely protective feeling of those arms caging him in – not that he ever would have admitted that to himself, or to anyone else who had asked – and the scent of the blonde curled against him, Izaya was quite content indeed to remain where he was. Ha! Whoever would have thought that he should find himself here, in this position with this man, and enjoying himself along the way. If someone had told him six months before that he would be here, he'd have laughed himself hoarse and sent them from his office with a pretty little pattern of knife cuts as a parting gift. Funny how things can change, funny how love has a way of turning everything on its head, funny, that's what it was.

For another hour or so, Izaya wasn't really sure nor did he particularly care, he dozed again; drifting in and out of consciousness was strangely calming, like a little cat nap, basking out in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He normally rose early, timed his day with the rising of the sun, not one to waste even a second of his time, though it was something he could afford to waste and greatly at that. The very fact that he was here, lounging in a bed in the middle of the morning, was just another change to his life, just another step into the unknown. Izaya found the change intoxicating, and decided to himself that maybe more lie-ins were called for in future; and maybe he'd even get Namie to deal with those early morning clients he normally saw and bring him ootoro in bed instead—

Shizuo let out a little yawn when he finally woke, alerting Izaya to that fact. The blonde seemed unaware at first that there was another body in his bed, attempting to stretch his muscles with another yawn. It wasn't until he found that one arm, which Izaya had taken to using as a pillow, didn't move that his eyes opened to lower to his bed guest. The raven was quick to spot the initial dash of confusion and that old little flicker of anger or dislike or something like that dance across the liquid gold of Shizuo's eyes before the blonde covered them with a mask of apparent indifference.

"It's time to wake up sleeping beauty~! Your prince is here!" Izaya half sang and half mocked, propping himself up somewhat by leaning on one elbow. His mouth tilted up in that same little smirk that usually filled it, a laugh yet to be spilled ghosting on his words. He wanted to laugh at the state of Shizuo's hair, blonde strands stuck up all over the place, ruffled and messy. He wondered if Shizuo knew how good it looked on him.

If looks could kill, Izaya was certain that his body would have withered away on the spot from the look that Shizuo shot his way. The blonde's lips tilted down into a scowl, and with another growl, the blonde had closed his eyes again and rolled to his side. Izaya simply grinned at the back now facing him.

"Oh, does Shizu-chan not want his true love's kiss?" he teased, another low chuckle half falling from his mouth. He lay back down too, faking a sigh and rolling onto his back. His body still tingled, and it was simply crying out for a shower and good scrub, but for now, he wasn't going anywhere; certainly not when there was so much fun to be had playing with the monster like this. Whoever said he wasn't allowed just a few games now and then? "Ah, that's a shame indeed. I guess you can never, ever wake—"

"How is this so easy for you?" Shizuo cut across before Izaya could finish. His voice was low, husky and deep though not simply because of the sleep still clinging to his body. The oaf was still half asleep, and yet it wasn't hard to see through that, to see that the blonde was genuinely seeking an answer, that he was clearly still having trouble sorting through this, whatever it was.

"Whatever makes you think that it's easy for me?" Izaya replied, taking a second or so afterwards to pause, waiting for the blonde to reply if he felt the need to do so. When that answer never came, the information broker opened his mouth to speak again, only to be cut off before he could do so; not by the blonde himself, but by the insistent, and yet perfectly polite knocking at Shizuo's front door.

Shizuo groaned, half tucking himself further into the bed as if that would make whoever it was go away. One of his hands reached up to rub his face, covering his eyes from the light that was streaming in, far too brightly for someone who had just woken.

"Tch~ Shizu-chan is too lazy to even answer his own front door," Izaya rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue at the behaviour of the man beside him. In all honesty, he wondered why he was really surprised that the brute was so childish about his morning attitude when he acted the same in many other areas of his life; it was almost endearing, and perhaps it would have been more so if Izaya was such an early bird, wasn't so disapproving of those who always lazed around in bed. Once in a while was okay perhaps, once in a while. "It's a good thing I'm here to get it for you then, isn't it? I hope you can afford my services though, I don't come cheap~"

Shizuo merely hummed out some kind of grumbled response, and Izaya wondered if he'd already fallen asleep again. Another eye roll coincided with another knock at the door, and so Izaya found himself sliding out of the bed in order to do something the blonde should have been doing. Not that he was going to complain, it would be more than interesting to see who was on the other side and bothering Shizuo on his day off. As far as he was aware, the blonde had a limited number of friends, and so someone who wanted to spend time with him was always going to be entertaining to play with too. Izaya tugged on Shizuo's crumpled shirt from the floor, not bothering with the buttons, simply hugging it closed around him.

"Why do you keep doing that?" came a gruff question as Izaya was halfway out of the bedroom door. He paused at that, turning to look back at the man who had addressed him. Shizuo had apparently not fallen asleep again, propping himself up against the headboard of the bed, one eye cracked open and a hand running through his hair. The raven cocked a brow, waiting for Shizuo to elaborate on what he had just said, "Wearing my clothes I mean,"

"Oh~ would you prefer if I just wondered about the place naked?" Izaya replied with a throaty chuckle, not even missing a beat with his reply, "Eh~ I never had you pegged as such a pervert, Shizu-chan!"

He didn't stop to wait for a reply after that, turning once again and continuing off towards the door. He half hoped it was that little elderly lady from just next door, imagine what a surprise she would have to find him answering Shizuo's door wearing the man's shirt. The look on her face, oh, now wouldn't that just be _priceless_?

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><p>Shizuo wasn't sure at what point he realised that letting Izaya answer his front door was not a wise move. It hadn't been when the raven had slipped from the bed, and it hadn't even been when he had stood in the doorway, making comments that sent Shizuo's mind curling in on itself. He guessed it had been just after the raven had moved, and he had been preparing to cuddle back down under the bed sheets for another hour or so of sleep on his day off.<p>

And then it had hit him, like some kind of vending machine to the head, like a knife to chest, and the blonde had shot back up and out of bed at that. Of course it wasn't a good idea to send him, why had he thought that it would be? Fuck, fuck,_ fuck_—

As he scrambled to pull on his underwear, discarded on the floor from last night, he could hear Izaya half humming to himself as he moved through the other room. Who knew who could be waiting on the other side? Anyone, _everyone_. All it would take for Shizuo's entire world to come crashing down around his head would be for the wrong person to be stood on the other side of that wood. He wasn't ready for anyone to know yet; he didn't want them to know because he still didn't know about this yet. Still, still, still. Izaya and he were meant to hate each other, and maybe somehow they still did, and if someone were to find them here together, then what sort of nasty, tricky little questions would that raise? Shizuo didn't want to think about it. He wasn't ready.

He half stumbled into the doorframe on his way out of the bedroom, stubbed his toe on the corner of the sofa as he hurried through the living room and towards the door in the hope that—

Light was pooling in from the door at the end of the little hallway, and Izaya was stood with one hand on the doorknob, the other keeping Shizuo's own shirt in place around him. Shizuo couldn't see his face, but from the way he stood, he'd not been expecting to find who was on the other side of the door. Shizuo knew straight away that the scene wouldn't look good, whoever it was. He couldn't see just yet, was still just out of reach. Izaya in his clothes, himself half naked, together, ruffled hair and flushed faces, well, that would give anyone the wrong impression. Shizuo supposed bitterly that it was the right one in this case. It wasn't until Shizuo had made his way down the hallway that he understood the reason why the raven seemed so uncomfortable.

"A-ah, Shizuo," came the stuttered greeting of Mr Tom Tanaka.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.


	59. Chapter 59: Scared

**Author's Note: **_I am so sorry for not updating sooner! I caught this horrible cold/virus thing and spent most of the last few days either sleeping or sitting in bed watching cheesy movies and sneezing my head off feeling sorry for myself, welp. So this is a bit idfuisdfdfe for me, but I'm still getting back on my feet so please forgive me~~_

_Well, hopefully updates will now go back to being every day/every other day once again depending on how much creativity I have in a day, haha. There is also likely to be a little Valentine's Day fic posted on Tuesday, just a bit of plotless fluff like my Christmas one-shot. So have a look out for that too._

_Anyway, this update is way overdue, so I'll stop babbling on and post it already. I hope it's sort of worth the wait even if nothing much really happens. Don't forget those reviews lovelies~ /Kiwi out/_

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><p>Shizuo Heiwajima had only felt scared a number of times in his life. When he had been cursed with strength such as he had, there had been no real need for him to be scared of anything. Of course that didn't mean that he had never experienced the emotion or that he had never felt his insides gripped with a cold spell that seemed to freeze his very being. He'd felt it when he was little, scared that is, when he'd first discovered his curse. How could a young boy discover something like that and not be afraid after all? He'd not understood what was going on, and he'd felt alone, because who else can say they can lift an entire fridge above their head that young? He'd felt scared when he'd gotten into middle school and those older kids had started picking fights because of what they'd heard. He'd felt scared when he entered high school, and realised after one awkward encounter with a girl in his class that maybe he just wasn't attracted to that gender. Shizuo had never really stopped being scared about that, though he'd learnt to brush all of that fear under that wall of strength, push it to the back corner of his mind and forget what fear even felt like.<p>

He felt scared now though, terrified, or so the erratic patter of his heart in his ears told him; seeing Tom stood on the doorstep had awoken that emotion in him again, stirring it up in a storm of shocked faces and bare skin. It didn't take him long to decide that he didn't like the feeling, or the vulnerable one that seemed to come over him from the look on his employer's face and the awkward silence that had seemed to creep over them all.

Tom was usually the sort of guy who didn't draw conclusions until he'd heard the whole story, and maybe that was why he was so good at his job; but Shizuo knew too that there was hardly any other way to take this picture. Izaya stood in the doorway in Shizuo's shirt and the blonde himself dressed only in his underwear in the middle of the morning, what other way could that be taken? No one would buy the excuse they'd been fighting given the evidence, not even someone half as dense as Tom was. Suddenly all of his conversations from the past few weeks with Tom flitted to the front of the blonde's mind. Would Tom connect that Izaya and the man Shizuo had been speaking of before?

To his credit, Tom held his ground and managed to somehow maintain the aloof stance that he always had, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. And yet his expression was unnervingly blank, like a page that an artist has yet to fill, a novel that an author has yet to write. Shizuo knew of course that his friend, his employer, wasn't the kind of man who would be cruel about what he had stumbled upon, because really, he was sure the man didn't even know how to be cruel. That blank expression scared Shizuo the most, because this whole situation was foreign, and he wasn't sure if Tom would act just as strangely or remain the same man who had become his close friend.

"Looks like you forgot about the plans for today," the chocolate headed man piped up, effectively shattering the stillness that had swept over the three of them. His expression was still bare, void of any judgement, either good or not. His eyes had lingered on Shizuo's face though, and though Shizuo had averted his eyes somewhere else to avoid the confrontation, he could feel the heat of that gaze and practically hear the unspoken question in his friend's mind. He knew this was not one of those things that Tom would let slide like he had done before.

Shizuo didn't reply to his employer's statement. The answer was obvious.

"Well, we can always check out that place some other time, I guess you made other plans," Tom continued, letting out a laugh that to Shizuo sounded just a little forced. He couldn't blame the man, not when he had expected to find Shizuo and stumbled across this instead. The loan shark pushed himself into action then, one hand removing itself from his pocket to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, making as if to head off and down the corridor.

Izaya himself remained quiet and Shizuo couldn't see the look on his face, but was thankful for the fact that he seemed to have realised now was not the time for wiseass remarks; though maybe that would have done something to kill the mood that was dragging them all over into the dark.

"Gimme ten minutes," the blonde huffed out in a low voice when Tom started to turn. He still couldn't bring himself to look at his boss, but spotted the half nod in his direction before he promptly shut the door with a chorus of squeaking hinges.

Suddenly the raven seemed to be stood too damn close for comfort, and Shizuo found himself pushing away from the door and back up the little hallway into his living room. He couldn't stop the string of curses that started to tumble from his mouth, a rude little mix of 'damn it' and 'fuck' that simply just blurred together, over and over. His skin started to tingle, that familiar feeling of anger itching under his skin, bubbling in his blood and pump, pump, pumping around his body. He didn't like this feeling, this odd little lovechild of fear and rage. It was destructive, working its way through his body and working that anger up, burning away at a temper that was already short as it was. That irritation, pure rage, red hot, worked its way up, hotter and hotter. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to get this angry, almost forgotten the way his vision seemed to swim with red, his head blurring from all other thoughts. When the louse finally spoke up, calling his name in that sing-song voice from where he leant against the wall by the hallway, Shizuo couldn't stop himself from returning to the way he normally dealt with his anger; destroying something.

The idiotic pot plant in the corner was the first to go, promptly being tossed at the floor just before Izaya's feet. The raven glanced down at it when it landed, the vase smashing against the floor and sending soil scattering across the place. There was a look on his face that Shizuo didn't understand nor really care to in his fit of anger. Why would he even care for a stupid potted plant anyway?

"I hope you're not expecting me to replace that one too," Izaya half laughed from his place across the room, still stood by the carnage of pottery and plant. His tone was amused, and yet his body language said something entirely different. His arms were crossed and his face was void of all of the mirth in his voice. Shizuo couldn't read his expression or the guarded shield in his eyes and he didn't reply either. All he could bring himself to do was try and calm down that fire burning under his skin and return the raven's stare; something easier said than done when Izaya was still swathed in the crisp fabric of his work shirt and nothing else.

Silence fell over the two of them, and Shizuo questioned just what had happened that had made this whole thing so fucked up, so hard to understand. If this had happened a few days earlier, maybe a week or two, the blonde would have tossed Izaya from his apartment and promptly informed Tom that it was just to release some stress. That was what guys did right, had sex to relieve some tension or whatnot? Now though, heh, now Shizuo was panicking because he didn't know what was meant to happen or what came next. He'd still not figured out where it, this thing with the louse, was going, only that he'd not wanted anyone else to know other than the two of them what was going on between them. Then this had happened, and now Tom knew, and suddenly this relationship, if that was what it was called, wasn't quite so secret. That scared Shizuo, left him falling without a parachute, plummeting down into that abyss with a speed that made him feel sick and light-headed.

"Go get fucking dressed," he bit out with a grumble.

The raven smirked, but didn't say anything after that, even when Shizuo showed no signs of speaking again either. He stood against the wall for a few moments longer, just staring back at Shizuo with a quiet calm. The blonde guessed the raven was analysing him, trying to pick through what he thought he knew about Shizuo and act all smartass by guessing what he was thinking. Shizuo wanted to laugh; maybe if Izaya figured out what Shizuo was thinking, he'd be kind enough to tell the blonde, because Shizuo Heiwajima sure as hell didn't know what was going on anymore.

And that was the scariest thing of all.


	60. Chapter 60: Facts of Humanity

**Author's Note: **_Apologies for the lack of updates for the past few days – I kind of had a bit of a dip in motivation for writing and my laptop crashed yesterday and I've literally only just managed to get it to turn on again. On the plus side I've made heaps of progress with my cosplay outfit for MCM, at least I'm being creative in some way right? _(/w\)

_Also, no reviews on the last chapter guys – way to break my heart~~~~! Time to go and drown my sorrows in instant noodles and milkshake, welp~ Just a short update tonight seeing as it's getting kind of late, but I wanted to update to let you all know I'm still here._

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><p>Human beings are always terrified by change. They become so engrossed in their routines and their structure that when something breaks that, they are caught off guard; they falter, they stumble and sometimes, they fall. That was just a fact of humanity, something that Izaya saw over and over and over in every human that crossed his path. It was irrefutable; he'd tried and tested it himself. He'd watch his little playthings as they got on with their routine, as they got used to certain things, started to take them for granted, and then he'd pull that thing out from under their very feet. The free fall they fell into after that was inevitable, they didn't know how to cope, so they became scared, they feared the new and unfamiliar way of things. They began to panic, drawing away like they might from some hideous monster, as if that would save them from all of this. Izaya knew what it looked like, he knew what happened to humans when they changed, he could see the signs.<p>

Right now, he was spotting them in Shizuo.

He had settled himself against the wall to watch the blonde after he had vanished and the door had been shut on Tom Tanaka's form. It was obvious that Shizuo was concerned by the appearance of his friend and employer, and Izaya supposed that any rational person would be in the same frame of mind too; but he was far from rational, in all manner of speaking. Izaya was used to picking out human behaviour, but from the way Shizuo was stood, the raven was sure that even an amateur could see that the blonde was about to crumble. He could hear the little curses tumbling from the other man's mouth, could see the way his fists were clenched tightly together. His shoulders were tensed, and he had moved across the room as far away from Izaya as was probably possible in the little apartment. The old part of him wanted to laugh, to comment on how remarkable it was that a monster like Shizuo could feel something as human as he was right then and there. It was almost impossible to keep that laugh limited to a smirk when the plant pot landed at his feet, and the raven was gifted with a glimpse of the old Shizuo, the monster, the one who wanted his head on a platter. The old him was more than happy to see that he was still there, under the surface, just like he was himself.

Izaya couldn't help the little quip that came out of his mouth, a little presence from the old him to the Shizuo stood before him. Monster to monster, that's all it was. Maybe that was how he dealt with the change, the uncertainty, Izaya didn't know, didn't care. The fact that Tom had appeared and all but stumbled onto their little relationship, if that's what it was now, didn't bother him as much as it was clearly bothering Shizuo. Maybe at one point it would have, but now things had changed, now he didn't care.

He'd never really had problems with scandal about his life or himself. That was just another fact about humanity. People like him were always talked about, in the light of day and in the underworld of the night. He was used to it, used to be the centre of scandal, of gossip. He was used to people dragging his name around, making up shit ugly rumours just because they didn't like the way he worked, the way he walked, talked, breathed. What did one more scandal matter to him? It didn't, and Izaya was pretty sure that Tom wasn't the kind of person to go throwing the knowledge he had come across around the city either. He certainly wouldn't do that to Shizuo, and the raven doubted that Tom even had the spine or desire to do it to him either. From what Izaya knew, the man was as mild mannered as anything, and he didn't understand why Shizuo was so upset, _so angry_, about this.

Maybe it was because the blonde was still ashamed of doing things like this or because he'd not come to terms with his feelings that he was so worked up. Izaya supposed that was pretty likely with the blonde, because he was pretty sure that Shizuo hadn't dealt with his emotions yet, hadn't moved past the initial 'I'm supposed to hate you' barrier, even now, after they'd slept together and woken up together and managed to get along just fine. Maybe it was because Shizuo was just a private person in general, he knew from years of prodding and poking at the blonde that was true as well; monsters always were stingy on their life details. Ha, ha.

If Izaya hadn't been so personally involved he would have spent more time picking apart that process, more time mocking the blonde, laughing at him and this human emotional bullshit that he was going through. That's what the old him would have done at any rate, he would have remained perched against the wall, smirking and laughing and mocking until Shizuo had burst, yelling and screaming and roaring like monsters do. It didn't seem like that long ago that would have been the case, that would have been just what they did, the natural order of things.

"Go get fucking dressed," Shizuo bit out with a grumble. Izaya couldn't help but smirk at that, waiting for a little while longer where he perched against the wall before he complied, pushing away and into the bedroom to shed Shizuo's clothes in favour of his own.

Funny how a little emotion and a few heated kisses in the night could change that.


	61. Chapter 61: Nothing, Nothing, Everything

**Author's Note: **_It seems my immune system is being lame or I don't have enough Vitamin C, because I've caught what is probably my fifth cold of the year already. WoOoO for the sickly kid! _

_Now, to the __**anon 'critic'**__ who left a review earlier about another review on this fic: I only have one thing to say to you, if this fic is as "boring" as you say, what are you doing reading the reviews for it? Perhaps you could find more constructive outlets for your own boredom than being mean about other people's reviews, even if you might not agree with them. _

_Well, now that I'm done not listening to rude anonymous internet users, I present you with the latest update, hopefully this length is a little more suitable~ enjoy~! And I'm also hoping to update some of the other fics I have posted here too... "hoping" being the operative word there, welp~ _\(n_n)/

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><p>The little Ikebukuro apartment was used to silence; Shizuo was hardly the loudest of tenants when he was home. He'd never brought anyone back here after all, save for once or twice when Tom had come in after work for a beer – a cold glass of milk or water in Shizuo's case, he'd never cared much for beer - to discuss plans, and so for the most part it was just the blonde that moved around its little rooms. Shizuo didn't really talk much when he was there either, preferring to clumsily read the books that Celty seemed so keen to lend him or ones that he was certain Kasuka had sent over on his behalf; most of the time he didn't even do that, merely seating himself at the window and watching the world unfurl out of the window, a cigarette tucked quietly into the corner of his mouth, curling towards the ceiling in delicate puffs of silver. The simple home was more of a haven for him than a social hub, a sanctuary where he could come and retreat from the world and the monster that everyone seemed to see him as; it was somewhere that he could be himself, just Shizuo Heiwajima, the man who wanted, really, nothing more than to belong, to be left alone in quiet reflection.<p>

The apartment was used to silence, but nothing like the quiet that now hung in the air. This was so different to what the place was used to, it was heavy and awkward, like a blanket dropped over the heads of unsuspecting passers-by who wanted nothing more than to escape it. It was thick, like fog, dragging everything in the room into its grasp, obscuring them in uncertainty. Shizuo could feel it on his shoulders, like some physical, tangible thing that he could reach out and strangle if he tried to do so. It seemed to freeze him, locking his joints and keeping him firmly in place despite the chills pricking at his exposed skin and the knowledge that Izaya essentially had free reign in the other room while he was out here; like some kind of statute, locked in a sea of unease.

He could hear Izaya moving in the other room, the vague sound of him changing or dressing or whatever, but even that couldn't really motivate him to move or at the very least speak up. Izaya didn't seem to be starting any conversations either, and in his state of mind, Shizuo wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He supposed it was, but then if they'd been talking, there wouldn't be this uncomfortable weight hanging on his shoulders, forcing him down and down and around in circles. His thoughts were too loud in this quiet, and Shizuo guessed that he would have welcomed the distraction a conversation with the louse would have brought, even if it had been quips on his behalf, even if it was a conversation with Izaya he was having.

That break in the quiet didn't come though, at least not until Izaya had finished pulling his own clothes on and no doubt fixing himself somewhat in the little bathroom attached to the bedroom. Shizuo still hadn't moved, and from the way Izaya didn't comment on that, the raven didn't seem all that surprised to see that was the case. The blonde could feel the stare of the other man on him for a while, like some kind of silent challenge he was expected to answer. That had been what their relationship had been until then, hadn't it? A simple game of cat and mouse, each trying to outdo the other, constantly trying to make their little rival step up to the mark, go further and further. Shizuo supposed it shouldn't really be all that different now that they'd shifted their relationship somewhat, into_ this_, whatever mess this was.

"What's the matter Shizu-chan, louse got your tongue?" Izaya broke in after an uncomfortable span of time had passed. Shizuo didn't turn to look, but from the sound of Izaya's voice, he guessed that the raven had returned to his place perched against the wall, in front of the carnage of pot and plant. "I would have said cat, but I never really had you pegged for a cat person, even after you looked after Kasuka's ca—"

"You talk too much," the blonde cut across, a twisted half laugh ghosting from between his mouth; one which soon turned into a few seconds of bitter, sarcastic laughter, though directed at who, Shizuo didn't know. Izaya didn't reply, but it didn't take a genius to know that his lips would be tweaked up in that irritating, amused smirk of his, glancing at Shizuo's back like he was the most interesting thing around.

"I do hope you aren't trying to avoid our little chat," the information broker smoothly returned, and Shizuo heard a little whisper of clothes as the raven headed man moved from his place against the wall, though to where Shizuo didn't know either. He wasn't ready to talk about that with himself yet, let alone with Izaya, though his ego would never admit defeat and own up to that.

It seemed there was a lot that he didn't know lately, his own feelings being the chief thing. He'd always thought himself so self-assured in that area, if not a little neglected when it came to love, and now here he was, panicked and questioning just what he really was feeling. It was almost laughable that as a grown man he couldn't even decide, though he guessed most grown men didn't have to deal with finding out someone they had come to care for, perhaps even love after all, had turned out to be someone else, a different kind of monster, and a person they were meant to hate. The blonde half mused that Tom would be able to sort of all this emotional slurry out in a flash, because he always seemed to know how to understand Shizuo's feelings better than Shizuo did; that thought lasted for mere seconds before the blonde remembered that Tom was waiting outside, ready to question him and Shizuo cringed inwardly into himself.

He could have dealt with keeping this thing secret. It would have meant that only Izaya and he knew about it, meant that there was no outside pressure from anyone else trying to get him to decide how he felt or where this was going. He could have taken his time trying to decipher his feelings, to understand them, to come to terms with the fact that Izaya and Nakura and _love _were three things now that just went hand in hand. Now, well now what? He supposed things would be rushed now, they'd pick up in pace, because Tom would sure as hell want to know what was going on, what had prompted this shift in relationship. Shizuo didn't like leaving his boss, _his friend_, without answers, but at this stage, he still didn't know if he had them ready to give to the other man.

"Of course I'm damn well not," Shizuo bit back, his tone more bitter than perhaps he intended. He guessed the anger that had wormed its way through him and mixed with the embarrassment had something to do with that little edge in his voice. Izaya didn't miss it either, and couldn't stop the little chuckle that fell from his mouth on hearing it. There was something so delightful about the brute when he was this way, so unrefined and almost barbaric when he really got into fighting. Fascinating, just—

"I'm not a coward," Shizuo continued, breaking Izaya quite from his little train of thought and bringing him back on track again.

"Oh, no, of _course_ you aren't," he replied, unable to stop another laugh from working its way out and across the room to reach Shizuo. His tone was mirthful, tinged with that little teasing lilt that was common when he spoke to Shizuo. It was amusing that the blonde could claim that when he was acting the way he was, all the way across the room and staring out of that window as if that would fix everything, even when nothing was even wrong. "That's why you can't even look at me, or why you couldn't look at Tom, or why—"

Shizuo turned at that, his arms stiff and tight by his body, hands still curled into little fists like some way of controlling his temper. Izaya stopped speaking mid-sentence at that, an eyebrow arching and his arms crossing; the oaf was so easy to read sometimes, though not all of it, and it seemed that even though he always surprised Izaya, there was still a way, even now, to push all those same little buttons that he had pushed before. The blonde couldn't back down from a challenge from him like that; it wasn't in his nature to do so.

"You're such a wiseass," was the reply that came from across the apartment in a half growl and a steely, golden glare. "I don't even know why you're still here,"

"Because you haven't asked me to leave yet," Izaya answered simply, though Shizuo obviously hadn't been expecting an answer to that or the answer that came. The look on the blonde's face at the start of his reply was hilarious, really, it was. "Because I rather like this— _quaint _little home of yours, because I need to ensure that you aren't going to run off like a child when I leave,"

"Because that's what you'll do, isn't it?" the raven added when he got no reply from Shizuo, not that he had been entirely surprised about that. He had moved himself now, stepping around the mess of soil and plant and pottery to hover by the little hallway leading towards the door. He wasn't going to outstay his welcome, especially when he could fast sense that he was wanted out of there, but he was just as stubborn as Shizuo was.

"You'll run," Izaya continued, "I know you better than you think Shizu-chan. You're panicking now because Tom stumbled onto this _relationship_ of ours,"

Shizuo didn't reply to that either, just simply continued to glare at the wall just beside Izaya's head, not particularly wanting to meet the other man's eyes. He was well aware of the fact that the clock was tick, tick, ticking and he should probably get his ass in gear and go out to where Tom was still waiting, but this was more important for now, even if he wasn't saying anything in return.

"So you'll tell him this was some kind of, _oh_, physical stress outlet or something vague and see-through like that," Izaya waved a hand airily in the air, as if to prove his point, "And then you'll try to go back to hating me, cursing me and chasing me, but you'll never quite be able to throw that trash at my head will you? Not anymore, anyway. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for all involved,"

"People like us don't have time to be afraid," the information broker quipped once more, "We don't have that long before we crash and we burn, so we have to stop caring what people think. That way we have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Just look how well it worked for me—"

Shizuo didn't reply to that either. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his brain was cursing him for not speaking, some part of it screaming that he should just toss the asshole out and another pleading with the blonde to make him stay. He'd never get used to this internal conflict, and he half wondered if it was something that would ever go away or if it would just whisper in his head over and over and over until he was quite mad; as mad as the informant stood gleefully before him like this was the most fun he'd ever had, as if this were just another day of business.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Shizuo spoke up, his forehead crinkled in a little frown. It was irritating that he was apparently so easy to read, and by Izaya too, and yet there was some part of him that found it reassuring, like he didn't have to keep pretending anymore; because finally someone realised just how much trouble he was having with this, because someone _understood_.

"I'm trying to tell you not to be so worked up over this," Izaya answered, curtly, "What are you so scared of?"

The raven didn't linger long after that, moving himself down the hallway so that he could slip his shoes on where they had been left, scattered by the doorstep when he had come in. Once again, he seemed to either not want a response from Shizuo, or he knew that he wasn't going to get one, for he continued to chatter, heartily and cheerily, almost to himself, as if Shizuo wasn't even there, as if he were simply musing things over himself.

"It's funny," he commented, one hand reaching for the little doorknob to the front door. "I didn't think monsters even knew how to be scared. Guess you always will prove me wrong, won't you, Shizuo Heiwajima?"

The words stayed with Shizuo long after Izaya had slipped from the apartment with the promise to call and a silky laugh. The words stayed with him even when he finally moved, back into the bedroom to dress and out of the door himself to find Tom still waiting.

Nothing to lose? Everything to gain?

Shizuo had never had all that much to lose in the first place, except perhaps his own life, whatever little value that was really worth anyway. Maybe the louse was right; people like him didn't have the greatest life expectancy in the world. Dealing with the underbelly and shady characters in the city promised that; and with only so many tomorrows left around the corner, maybe, maybe, maybe he'd listen to the advice whispered to him from a raven with a wicked smile.

Nothing, nothing_, everything to gain—_


	62. Chapter 62: Spin and Spin and Spin

**Author's Note: **_Apologies for not getting to update this for the last couple of days – I had a really big essay to hand in for English Literature which is part of my final grade for college and an assessment that I had to do in my Japanese class, welp. So I've been spending time doing that and making shirts for my new Etsy site, exciting stuff~! _

_I can also say that in a couple of chapters we'll be seeing the beginning of the end for this fic really, because the way it stands at the moment, this will probably end somewhere between chapter 70-75. I know I could quite easily go on and on with this conflicted Shizuo arc, but it has to end at some time. We'll see, that may all change when I start writing these final chapters, but most likely it will end there._

… _even if I am not ready to say goodbye to all of you lovely reviews and this fic just yet. (;_;)_

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><p>Shizuo Heiwajima was not a morning person. That was a little fact known to anyone who knew him well enough or had done for a considerable amount of time. He was grouchy, cranky, never liking to be roused from sleep unless he needed to be. Truth be told he never really had been an early riser, even when he had been little, filled with childish energy that ought to have prompted him to rise early like most of the others his age.<p>

He'd often linger around in the mornings, even on work days, curled in the bed sheets, until the last possible moment until he had to waken and rise, clinging to the persistent kiss of sleep and the warmth of the fabric breathing against his skin. He didn't take long to get ready after that either, even if he was still groggy or not quite awake. Shizuo had never really been one to take too long to preen and polish his appearance, which was just another one of those things that had never mattered too much to him growing up. He always made sure that he looked presentable of course, making sure that his shirt and waistcoat and trousers were clean and neatly pressed the night before; though he'd still not really figured out how to get all of the creases out, and so his neighbour had taken to doing it for him in days of late after seeing his attempts. That was all that really went into his routine in the morning, just to shower, dry his hair, and brush his teeth and dress and leave. It was simple and it was humble, unassuming, just like Shizuo himself.

This morning had been completely different to his routine however, and Shizuo had found himself ready faster than he would have been normally; though he supposed the fact that Tom was waiting just outside of the door was the reason for the boost in speed. He had lingered awkwardly for a few moments where he had been stood in the living room following Izaya's departure from apartment before he had shaken himself free from those perplexing little thoughts of his and headed to get dressed. Another outfit had been hanging in the wardrobe, clean and ironed, as if it had been waiting for him, and Shizuo had wasted no time in pulling it on.

He cursed the speed when he got to the door, half wishing he had wasted more time or declined Tom's offer after all; that would mean putting off dealing with the questions that were inevitably going to follow. The blonde still wasn't sure he wanted to answer them just yet, or even if he could. Tom wouldn't be mean about it, wouldn't judge, or at least not in a way that Shizuo would be able to tell if he was, but that didn't mean it would be easy to discuss. No, no, no—

"That was quick, I thought I'd be waiting here a while," Tom commented when Shizuo appeared at the door, tugging it shut behind him after checking he'd remembered his key and cigarettes. The other man hadn't moved much from where he had been stood before, his hands once again tucked into his trousers and a small, warm smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you ready to go?" the brown headed man questioned with a slight chuckle, mirthful. Shizuo's forehead crinkled somewhat in a half frown, his own hands shoving into his pockets too, almost childishly in the manner that he did so. Tom didn't seem to be at all concerned with that, more than used to Shizuo's rather brusque personality and irritable behaviour by now.

"Hn," Shizuo merely grumbled out in reply, bowing his head once in a stiff nod and pushing himself towards the stairs leading out of the apartment block. Tom started forward too, settling into place just in front of Shizuo as they headed down.

Neither of them spoke after that until they'd already left the building and arrived on the street outside, though Shizuo had faintly heard the sound of Tom whistling quietly to himself, something he frequently did. The blonde idly wondered if Tom could feel the frown directed at his back, because Shizuo was sure it was deep enough for his boss to feel it. He had been expecting Tom to question him about what he had walked into, about what was going on and perhaps even if he was feeling okay, and yet the other man had not asked a thing. If Shizuo didn't know that Tom was smarter than that, he'd have wondered if he had simply forgotten, simply not realised that it was Izaya who had been stood there. Really, Shizuo wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

It was relatively warm out, more so than he had been expecting, and Shizuo was glad he had chosen to roll up the sleeves of his shirts towards his elbows. The streets were fairly busy too, though that was only really to be expected now that the weekend had rolled around. Shizuo wasn't sure how long it was that he simply followed Tom, listening to the quiet little whistle and waiting for the questions to start. Shizuo wasn't sure if this was some kind of battle, a power play to see who would give in first and bring the subject up. Shizuo knew that was a stupid idea, because it sure as hell wasn't going to be him; but he mentally thanked Tom for obviously giving Shizuo a chance to explain things himself before diving right in.

"Where are we going again?" the blonde huffed out when the silence became too irritating, ironic seeing as normally that was something that Shizuo appreciated about Tom and he. Tom had mentioned that they had plans, ones that Shizuo had quite obviously forgotten, and Tom knew that too, so there was no shame in asking just where they were headed after all.

"I knew you'd forget, as soon as you agreed to come!" Tom laughed, turning his body somewhat to grin back at Shizuo. His pace slowed a little bit, letting him fall back into step with his bodyguard, who until then had been hanging back awkwardly. "My friend's opening his restaurant, remember?"

From the look on Shizuo's face, he didn't.

"Well anyway, I invested some money into the place, so he said that our food's on him from now on," Tom chuckled, waving a hand airily beside his head. "Apparently they serve the best noodles in the city, and I figured it makes a change from sushi, right?"

Shizuo smiled at that, unable to stop a little laugh of his own floating free and drifting across the air.

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><p>The little restaurant wasn't big, in fact it was rather humble in size and not all that extravagantly decorated, but Shizuo decided he liked it pretty quickly after they'd arrived. People seemed to trip over him in other places, always thinking that he'd get pissed and tear the place apart if he wasn't happy, but it hadn't been like that here. It hadn't taken them long to arrive, only about fifteen or so minutes from the apartment complex that Shizuo lived in, and the place had been quiet, relatively empty, but warm and bubbly. Mr Tokihiro had greeted Tom with a smile and a one armed hug and when Shizuo had reached out his hand to shake had found himself pulled in for one too. Tom had laughed at the look on Shizuo's face when that had happened, and promptly reassured him that his cooking was better than his knowledge of personal space; and well, Shizuo had to admit that Tom's friend hadn't been lying when he'd claimed he made the best noodles in the city. If there was a series of awards for noodle dishes, the blonde decided that this place would win them, all of them. Tom and he had been ushered to a little booth near the corner, settled by the window so that if they so wished they could watch the busy hubbub of city life drift by outside; the best table in the place, or so Mr Tokihiro had declared.<p>

A collection of plates and bowls now lay scattered across this table; except for a little bowl of rice which still lay nestled in Shizuo's hands, though he didn't seem to be taking much notice of it, staring out of the window, lost in thought. Tom had finished eating, now sipping at his drink with a soft, concerned smile resting on his face, directed towards the blonde sat across the table from him.

"You don't need to explain this morning to me if you don't want," The loan sharked spoke up, quietly, setting his cup down on the table and waiting for Shizuo to respond. The blonde's head snapped back at that, but his eyes lowered almost awkwardly down to the rice in the bowl and a scowl creased his face.

Tom had never been one to judge anyone for their choices in life, something that always surprised many people, his clients mostly, who were used to entirely different sorts of people in his line of work. As far as Tom was concerned, the happier Shizuo was, the better it would be for the state of Ikebukuro in the long run. He wasn't sure how many more sign posts were left around the place in one piece. What he had stumbled onto wasn't something that he'd really been expecting nor even seen coming, but it wasn't something that he would condemn if Shizuo wanted it. Izaya may not have been perfect, but then again, who was? Tom wasn't, and Shizuo certainly wasn't either, and so maybe the match wasn't that bad after all.

"It's not that, I—" Shizuo began after a pause, poking around at the rice in the bowl with his chopsticks idly. He didn't know what he was expected to say, because all he could think of was Izaya's words from earlier; the fact that the raven had managed to predict his thoughts, the things he would have said. Shizuo couldn't say that now, not now that he'd been caught, if only to prove Izaya wrong. Tom didn't deserve to be lied to either; it wasn't his fault that he'd walked into that, whatever _that_ was. "It's complicated,"

"Isn't everything?" Tom replied with a low laugh, lacing his fingers together to rest his chin atop his hands and glance over at Shizuo, who was still fiddling with the rice in the bowl, but not attempting to eat it.

"Tch, everything to do with the louse is complicated," he half scoffed, half laughed in return, shoving the bowl down shortly after without finishing the rice inside; he'd lost his appetite.

"So are the two of you—?" the brunette broached, arching an eyebrow and allowing his question to linger in the air, unspoken but obvious all the same. Shizuo shrugged, sighing, frowning again.

"Fuck knows," came the reply, "Maybe, not really, kinda. The thing is— it's really…"

"Complicated?" Tom finished with a laugh, and Shizuo's mouth tweaked up slightly at the corners in a little smile. "You don't have to be so tense Shizuo; I'm not asking to hear everything, just— a couple things that I want to know,"

The blonde looked over towards his boss then, this time quirking his eyebrow; an unspoken reply of '_like what?_' hanging over the two of them. There was a little pause, a lull filled by the chatter of other customers.

"Are you happy?"

For a while, Shizuo didn't say anything, didn't do anything. He simply sat and stared and thought. He didn't know the answer to that. He'd not had long enough to really think about that, at least not while the louse had been there. They'd slept together and they'd curled up together and woken up together and managed to get along pretty damn well considering— but was Shizuo_ happy?_

Maybe, not really, kinda.

He remembered the time he'd stayed at Izaya's loft, had showered there and spoken with the raven about work, had simply sat on the sofa and smoked. He'd been calm then, content he supposed. Was that the same thing as happiness? What did happiness even matter? Of all the things that Tom could have chosen to ask—

"I've never really thought about it I guess," Another shrug. Tom smiled, not that Shizuo noticed. Quiet fell between the too of them again, before Tom breathed out a little sigh, letting his hands fall back to the table, the same little smile twisting his mouth as before.

"When you were little, did you ever just put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin?" He turned his eyes away from Shizuo now, out towards the window to watch the people walking past. "And everything inside of you would tell you to stop before you fell and look like the biggest dork in the playground, but you would just keep on going?"

"What the hell are you going on about?" The blonde had raised an eyebrow again at the apparent change in conversation, but Tom didn't seem to notice or care.

"Oh, just— thinking out loud I guess," He laughed, turning to look back at Shizuo with a smile that held so much more, before rising from the table and seeing the blonde follow._ That's what love is like_, was what he wanted to say, but didn't, _wouldn't_. One day Shizuo would understand his cryptic advice, his idea on what Shizuo should do, neatly wrapped up in a funny little tale of when he was little. One day, Tom was sure.

_"Just thinking out loud,"_


	63. Chapter 63: Pounce, Roar

**Author's Note: **FILLER CHAPTER ALERT. SORRY GUYS }:(

_I seem to be getting into the bad habit of not updating as often, my flu/cold thing kind of didn't really get any better and I got a rejection from one of my universities so I've not really been in the right frame of mind to write. _

_Hopefully things should be back to fairly regular/longer now, and I'm going to say at least every other day they'll be an update, though something always seems to come up and distract me from updating doesn't it? I'll try not to let it go this long again without an update though!_

_Oh, and just a little note regarding reviews – anonymous reviews have now been disabled and probably will continue to be for various reasons. Now, on with the chapter! It's only a little thing today; obviously I just need to get back into writing again. Welp~_

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><p>In his line of work, Izaya Orihara was used to unpredictable situations arising, especially when he worked with the clients that he did. The thugs and monsters of the underbelly of the city where far from tame after all. It was something that happened quite often and something that he was always interested to bring about. The raven from Shinjuku often went out of his way to do just that; pulling strings and pressing buttons and prodding, prodding, prodding for a more interesting outcome. Those little unaccounted for strings of data, information that didn't quite fit the rest, the little anomalies; they were what Izaya liked the most, because these were the things that no one had foreseen, the things that sent most humans spinning into that delightful free fall that he so loved to watch.<p>

Ever since Shizuo and he had gotten themselves tangled into the physical aspect of whatever it was they had Izaya had known that it would stop being a secret at some time. The only questions were when it did and who the one to reveal it to the world would be. He guessed he had just assumed that it would be he who did, because from the way Shizuo acted, it wasn't going to be him. Perhaps he had always just assumed that the fact they had slept together wasn't something that would ever reach daylight. And yet things had taken a turn now, emotions had gotten tangled up in this, warping it, pulling it further from the shadows of secrecy and into the sunlight path of truth.

This was exciting though, it was different to what he had thought would happen. Tom Tanaka stumbling upon Shizuo and he in such a _compromising_ position was certainly something he hadn't seen coming, something he hadn't accounted for. Izaya knew that really he should have been taking the whole thing more seriously, but the turn of events proved a welcome distraction; no, no, perhaps distraction was the wrong word, but it allowed him to take a step back, slip his confident mask back up enough to stop those embarrassing little slips of self wallowing that clouded any rational thought. He was more than willing to accept that this had changed him somewhat, but that new arrogant persona of his wasn't going to let his messy past and foolish emotions get in the way of logic. Logic was what had kept his head above the water until now. This thing had swallowed him before, but he had surfaced once again, gasping for air and managing to get back on top, he wasn't about to let that happen again.

Things were going to get tricky now though_, again_, he knew that, with Shizuo's strange pride; and he needed all the intelligent, logical thought he could get for that. Who else was going to steer them through this abyss into wherever it was they were headed after all?

Because he was beyond the point where he would be okay with the blonde sliding back into the city with only the promise of a quick fuck every now or then. The idea was laughable, and yet all at once seemed so natural now, so easy and so ironic. Izaya had sunk his claws in, and he wasn't going to let go without a fight, no matter how much the monster fought. Maybe it was partly a matter of pride now, maybe something else; maybe it didn't even matter what it was so long as it _was_.

The raven knew how to play, he'd had years to work on his ways of drawing people in like he had done in school, like he had continued to do as he got older and matured, grown his feathers and took flight into the wide open expanse of sky, the unknown. The blonde was always surprising him, always defying the norms of what Izaya expected of him and the raven knew that he always would be, forever and ever and ever, but that didn't mean he was going to quit.

Izaya Orihara loved to play games, and this one, _well_, hadn't it just transformed into one of the best games ever? Love was a monster, and love was a game, a silly little thing for just two to play.

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><p>Tom had still been there when he'd left Shizuo's apartment shortly after, the squeak of the door hinges giving away his exit. If the person leaving had been anyone other than himself, he guessed they would have felt awkward, slightly caught in the act, feel the tinge of shame pinch their cheeks; but Izaya certainly wasn't like any other lover, and that was why he was able to meet Tom's gaze with a wicked smirk and a flush-free face.<p>

The loan shark hadn't moved from where he had been stood at all, though that didn't mean that Izaya was going to stop and have a chit chat. Where would be the fun in answering all the brunette's questions when Shizuo could do so for him? Izaya could tell Tom had questions, he could see it in the man's eyes despite Tom's apathetic expression. The raven had to hand it to the man; he had a good poker face, one to rival even his own; perhaps that was why he was able to get along so well with Shizuo, because he was able to mask whatever judgements Izaya was sure he didn't feel for the blonde behind a slight smile and an aloof air. That certainly had to keep the oaf's temper in check; maybe he ought to be taking a few notes on that for any future interaction with Shizuo that he was sure would follow.

"Be gentle with Shizu-chan today," Izaya half purred, half laughed. Tom turned to look at him, his eyebrow rising a little curiously, but otherwise his face remained blank. "He had a bit of a late night; I wouldn't want him to go over exerting himself now,"

The raven took flight after that, urging his body back into motion, fluid like flight, like water, away from Tom and away from the apartment and away from Shizuo Heiwajima and down, down, down the stairs towards the hustle and bustle of the city. He had an apartment to get back to, a warm shower to meet; his body was singing for that water still, crying out for cleaning away the feel of last night that still stayed, tingling on his skin like a little ghost perched on his entire body.

Shizuo's anger was something he was used to, something he had learned to put up with. He didn't need to worry about that, didn't need to linger and reassure himself that Shizuo wasn't going to pull a disappearing act on him or anything. The reaction of the blonde wasn't out of the ordinary, and Izaya had seen enough emotion in the blonde when they'd been together to know that he could no longer just walk away; no, he could no longer do that anymore than he could. It was only a matter of time now, and Izaya had more than enough of that to wait.

It was thrilling to say the least, almost like watching another one of his humans stumble into the lion's den, though whether he was the lion or the poor soul meandering into the dark, he didn't know yet. Listen up Shizuo Heiwajima, because Izaya Orihara's not giving up yet. See him pounce, hear him roar.


	64. Chapter 64: Bathtime and Phonecalls

**Author's Note: **_Firstly I just want to send big virtual hugs to all of the people who sent me nice little messages about my university rejection. They all made me smile like a goof, ha-ha. I've got other offers though, so it's not the end of the world that one didn't want me. Just have to sort all the big scary accommodation and student loans and stuff now, wjhfjsdhfjsdhfjsdf. Welp!_

_Just a quick note now – I'm going to be away next Wednesday and Thursday on a trip to London with my college, so I won't be online to update for those two days. I know it's quite a way away, but I wanted to let you all know while I'm thinking of it! I'll probably update on the Tuesday night before I leave, but they'll be no updates until Friday when I get back or Saturday~. _

_Enough of my ramblings now though – time to get on with today's update! I hope you all enjoy this one too. Izaya and Namie's conversations are so fun to write~._**  
><strong>

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><p>"Ah, you always greet me with such a dazzling smile, Namie-chan!" Izaya Orihara cooed at the stony faced woman seated at her desk, tucked away in a little corner of his Shinjuku home and office.<p>

He himself had just slipped in through the front door, still wearing his twisted little smirk despite the tufts of inky hair sticking up rebelliously and the handful of crinkles on his shirt which normally would have bothered him. Namie, for the most part, ignored the little quip, merely raising her eyes from the paperwork she had been browsing in order to shoot a sceptical look the informant's way. Izaya didn't seem to mind though, practically skipping across the room to shrug his jacket off to rest on the back of his desk chair.

"You must have been out early, you certainly weren't here when I arrived," Namie commented after a while, having since returned her attention to the work in front of her, no longer paying attention to what Izaya was doing. Her tone was chiefly apathetic, much like the rest of her, but it was hard to miss the tinge of sarcasm, that little joking lilt that came with the words she spoke. "Do you even _sleep_ anymore?"

Izaya laughed at that, remaining stood behind the chair, his fingers running through the fur trim of his jacket almost affectionately. The little strands were starting to get a little dirty, just like the jacket's former owner, and the raven made a little mental note to get it cleaned soon. Namie would take care of that for him. He might not go as far as saying that he loved the item of clothing, but it certainly was dear to him; or as dear as a silly little jacket that had once belonged to his first lover could really be. It was almost funny he still had it when he thought about it. Hadn't he said so many times that he didn't care for the man, for the past and the him he had used to be back then? And yet here he was, keeping it lingering around him, warming him in the coldest of times. Maybe he liked the ironic, or maybe he was just a masochistic fool after all.

"Is that concern I hear in your voice?" he retorted, all hint of seriousness lost from his own voice. Namie snorted in reply, a quiet scoff slipping past her lips. Izaya half chuckled at that, sighing contently as if this was the most at peace he had ever felt. "No, I didn't think it was,"

"But if Namie-chan really must know, I haven't been here since yesterday evening," he continued with a lazy shrug of one shoulder, more out of habit than anything considering that Namie still wasn't looking. He let the fur slide between his fingers for the last time, removing them from between the dimming tufts and stepping back from the chair altogether. He still needed that bath, needed to clean himself since he'd not really done so since his last little tryst with Shizuo, something that bothered him to no end. He'd always prided himself on cleanliness, always made it an important part of his day to day living, washing and cleaning and weighing himself after each bath; just another way to keep himself in control.

"Out harassing some unfortunate soul again were we?" Namie cut in with another scoff, glancing up briefly to watch as he made his way across the loft towards the bathroom. Even he walk was teasing, a little skip, a little swagger that oozed with self-confidence that had rocketed along with his ego, all the way to his head.

"Why would I _ever_ do such a thing? Oh, your words wound me Namie," Izaya replied, bringing one hand flying up to his chest in mock hurt, only stopping for a second or so on his path across the room. He could practically feel the warm water lapping at his skin already, and was in no way going to put that off any longer than he needed to.

"_Actually_, I was having a tea party with the yellow scarves, they make for much better company than you do," he quipped, shooting a little smirk her way as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door and flicking the lock behind him.

The bathroom was light, much like the rest of the loft, and it was always kept clean, just the way Izaya liked it. Everything was tucked neatly out of the way in the bathroom cabinet, shampoo and the like, neat and tidy just as it ought to be. Shizuo's had been hell compared to this when Izaya had stepped foot into it that morning, with bottles of shaving cream and special shampoo and whatnot littered around the place. Izaya had not really expected any different from the blonde, but had made note to either hire the oaf a maid or give him lessons on proper bathroom protocol.

The raven wasted no time once he was inside and the door shut behind him, stepping forward to turn on the water, allowing the bathtub to start to fill. He perched on the edge while it did so, stirring his fingers in little circles just beneath the surface. It didn't take long for the thing to fill, and when it had Izaya stood to turn off the water, peeling away the crinkled clothes and stepping in. It was blissful when he sunk into the bath, the heat enveloping his aching muscles with a delightful tingling of his skin; already he felt a hundred times cleaner than he had done just minutes before.

Bath time was always something that calmed the frenzy of Izaya's mind; it washed away not only what may have gathered on his body but also the problems which settled in his mind. It was this time that allowed him to think the clearest. He always supposed it was similar to a smoker finally getting that fix they'd been craving, because he'd always noted that was when they were the most intelligent and had the clearest head; though they were hardly much smarter then, because anyone who sucked those toxins into their body was, in his opinion, an idiot. Shizuo Heiwajima was no exception, but then Izaya supposed he had always considered Shizuo a bit of an idiot, even before he'd taken up the nasty habit so maybe it didn't really matter after all.

The raven's mind fell to the blonde then, his head lowering to rest against the edge of the bath. He raised one foot briefly from the water, idly watching the droplets race down the skin of his leg as he pondered on the monster, their situation and the whole concept of love itself.

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><p>Shizuo Heiwajima had always thought he understood the whole damn concept of love, and he had never thought that it was possible to love and hate someone at the same time either;but then Izaya Orihara had coming crashing into that side of his life with a fake name and a box of sushi hand delivered to his apartment, and Shizuo had started to wonder just how much he understood after all.<p>

He'd stopped trying to deny the fact that he had slept with the man he was meant to hate, it had happened too many times for him to pretend they just hadn't done so now. After the talk he'd had with Tom, he guessed he could deal with Tom knowing that they'd done that as well. But that didn't mean dealing with his feelings was as easy as that. The solution to those wouldn't come nearly as simply, much to his annoyance. There was something there, he knew that he guessed, but it didn't mean he was really ready to accept that or even that he understood what it was. Was it love? Everything said that it should be, and yet it didn't feel like that was right to Shizuo, it didn't feel like it was that easy to define, to explain. It sounded too clear a label for this thing between him and the louse, too _clean_. Their relationship, love or hate or whatever, it wasn't simple, it never had been, and he guessed it never would be.

He had found his way back to Tom's apartment after they'd eaten at his friend's new restaurant; the brunette had invited him to watch the big fight on his new TV rather than skulk home alone. Shizuo still hadn't shaken away all the embarrassment of being discovered, but he hadn't declined Tom's offer all the same. He was sat on the sofa at the minute, Tom having headed out to get the take-out food they'd decided to get for later, rather than cooking something up. His phone lay sat out on the cushion beside him, and every now and then Shizuo couldn't help but glance at it, internally fighting with himself whether to pick it up and call a raven in Shinjuku. Maybe he—

Shizuo didn't know all that much about Izaya if he really thought about it. He knew that he had twin sisters that he didn't get on with or particularly like, he knew that he liked sushi and needed a damn good meal or five from what he'd seen from those slim hips. His knowledge didn't extend much further than that. Nakura had said a little more, but that still hadn't told Shizuo much about Izaya either. He'd mentioned a bad relationship when he'd been young; one that Shizuo knew vaguely involved Shiki, but not the details of that. He'd mentioned a rough relationship with his parents, which had surprised Shizuo since he'd always just assumed that Izaya'd had things easy in that respect. He'd mentioned numerous men that had flitted in and out of his life, but that hadn't told Shizuo much either other than that Izaya was a hell of a lot more experienced than he was in that respect.

Izaya knew everything about Shizuo though. Everything. The blonde would even bet that if asked the raven would be able to tell him what kind of toothpaste he used or the number of hairs on his head.

Shizuo didn't think lovers were supposed to be unequal like that. He supposed that if this was love, then he was meant to get to know Izaya, to find out the details to things Nakura had only alluded to, teased him with. Wasn't that what couples did? Chatted on the phone, talked, went out for meals and got to know each other or whatever? Shizuo half scoffed, half laughed to himself at the idea of him and Izaya doing that, and yet he couldn't stop himself glancing at his phone, couldn't stop himself thinking that's what was supposed to happen next.

"Damn flea," Shizuo muttered, fingers reaching out for the object at his side. "Damn, damn, damn,"

Which was ridiculous, one part of his mind reasoned - the sane part he supposed, because Izaya and he weren't a couple. They weren't, at least not as far as he was aware yet. They'd just fucked, spent the night together, and learnt that maybe they could get along without violently destroying everything around them. That didn't mean that they were dating, that didn't even mean that they were lovers, and yet—

Shizuo didn't have to wait long for someone on the other end of the phone to pick up.

"Hey, d'you, uh— wanna get— something to… _eat_?"


	65. Chapter 65: It's a Date!

**Author's Note:** _Finally, an update! This is what happens when I have a crazy real life going on while trying to write the last few chapters of a fic. It's like fate is trying to put off this ending or something. But don't worry, I'll never abandon this fic until it's finished – updates may be less often than they were before, but I promise that it __will__ be finished at some point! __This is only a small one today – because the update I have planned for tomorrow was originally going to be part of this one, but I decided that they'd be better off split into two. Tomorrow the update will be a decent length, and really cute, I pinkie promise. _

_**Note:**__ the book mentioned in the first paragraph is 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', which I'm studying for my English work & is probably one of my favourite books. You should all check it out! It's by Oscar Wilde and it is quite a hefty written book, but it has such beautiful lines in it that it is worth sorting through all the big words just to read it. _

_Also – I'm currently having a __give-away__ on my __Tumblr__, if you like Portal/Homestuck/free things you should go to my blong - '**angryghosts**' & add look at this here post - '**post/18961092856**__' - to check it out if you want. There aren't very many notes on it at all - so more chance for you to win ~~~ ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)_

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><p>Izaya had been seated across the loft when one of his multiple phones had started to ring all the way over on his desk. He'd been reading lazily, having sprawled there like a tom cat in the sun when he'd emerged, clean and warm, from the steam of the bathtub and the white tiled walls. He loved his work, really he did, but he wasn't the sort of person who was at it twenty-four-seven. Izaya took his sweet little relaxation time whenever he felt he needed it, now and then, dedicated some quality him time when work and playing with his humans was set on the back burner. He'd read the book before, twice at least, just like he'd read all the books in the loft more than once. He liked to read, but this was one of his favourites; a work from one of those great literary geniuses. Izaya could relate to that character Harry, but had always thought Dorian was a fool for allowing himself to be strung along the way he was. He supposed that was just the basest nature of humanity.<p>

The ringing of the phone essentially cut short the digression of his mind into those thoughts, for normally he would sit quite happily in the afternoon warmth and contemplate such deliciously complicated thoughts. Izaya glanced down briefly at the printed page of the book perched in his hands, wondering whether he ought to even bother answering the call or if he could simply continue to read; the phone call won over, and the raven closed the book without marking where he was, already having memorised the page number, in order to head towards his desk and catch the phone before it stopped ringing. Namie was still seated at her small desk just over from and out of the way of his. He wasn't sure what she was doing now, another mundane task he had invented for her to do just to piss her off he was sure; but it didn't really matter nor did he really care, so long as she kept quiet and that scowl to herself.

He crossed the room in less than a second or two, and the phone was still ringing when he reached the desk. One of the phones had lit up the screen, and that meant finding which one it was that he needed to answer was a piece of cake. He flipped the little device open without bothering to read the name on the screen – chances are it would only be another client looking for a little dirt or Shiki anyway; though the Yakuza boss usually called his personal number, it wasn't unheard of for him to catch Izaya on this one in case Izaya tried to ignore him.

"Orihara," the raven answered briefly, not bothering with the formalities of a greeting. Clients didn't want or need that little addition, all they wanted were his terms and price and to get that info back as soon as possible.

"Uh— hey," replied the voice on the other end of the line. It was certainly no client, and Izaya found himself almost surprised to hear Shizuo's voice creeping out of the little mobile phone and into his ear. He'd never anticipated that the blonde might call him, and it left him curious as to just what he could want. The raven couldn't help the little smirk that tweaked his lips at the sound of that honey voice.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting to hear your voice greeting me," Izaya purred back into the phone, moving around the desk to settle himself into the desk chair. His body sank back into the leather, one arm pressing the phone to his ear, the other resting on the little arm rest of the chair itself.

"How can I help you today then?" he continued, his voice practically dripping with merriment and a little mischievous lilt. He turned in the chair, swivelling around so that he could stare out of the large window and down, down, down at the city while he and the monster spoke. Nothing was more relaxing than observing his humans go about their day to day life or making sure his city was running smoothly and just as he wanted. There was a little pause on the other end of the line and what sounded like Shizuo clearing his throat and shifting how his body sat.

"You, uh— wanna get— something to… eat?" Shizuo bit out after a moment, awkwardly, fidgeting as he did so.

Izaya could already envision the look on the blonde's face as he said those words; his forehead would be crinkled, frowning, eyebrows knitted together and mouth set into a hard line. One hand would be resting on his knee, fingers pressing into it as if the pressure would somehow convince him that he wasn't mad while mentally he'd be cursing himself, cursing Izaya. He knew Shizuo well enough to know that, to know how he looked in certain situations and to some extent what he would be thinking, and yet that didn't in any way mean he had any idea as to why Shizuo had decided to do this. The motive was lost to Izaya. It was curious, it really was. Mad and crazy and exciting, and Izaya wanted to pick apart the reasons and find out just what had prompted this act from his enemy turned somewhat funny little lover.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Izaya teased, biting back a laugh at the growl on the other end of the line.

"I'm not saying it again," Shizuo growled out, and Izaya heard him shift again, no doubt a little more relaxed now they were straying into somewhat familiar ground. That would make this easier for him at least, less awkward. "You heard me just fine, _damn louse_,"

"Now, now, no need to be so testy," the raven chuckled and glanced around the chair towards Namie briefly, but the brunette was paying no attention to him or his phone call, so he turned back to the city again, unconcerned with her being there to listen in. It wasn't as if he really cared or he was saying anything that might give away what was going on. He knew that Shizuo wouldn't want anyone else finding out about this fling of theirs, their little affair of hate.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" retorted Shizuo before Izaya could say anything else. The information broker laughed again, and he half fancied he heard Shizuo chuckle a little too; maybe even crack a little smile, though obviously that was just his mind supplying him images of what he imagined the blonde to be doing.

"Of course I know that, what kind of informant would I be if I didn't?" Izaya replied, the smirk lingering on his lips like a kiss. "But we're digressing; I still haven't given you an answer about your offer, have I? Well, I accept,"

"W-What?" spluttered the voice on the other end of the phone. Izaya imagined the look on the blonde's face would be delightful to behold just then, and cursed that he hadn't the opportunity to see it.

"I said I'll accept your offer," Izaya repeated, his tone serious and yet laced with mirth at the uneasy behaviour of the blonde. "So when do you want to meet?"

"Uh—" Shizuo seemed not to have thought this far ahead if the stuttering on the other end was anything to go by. Had the oaf really not thought this through? He supposed that was something the blonde would do. He'd decide to call him up on a whim, invite him out and then be terribly shocked when Izaya actually took him up on the offer. It was typical Shizuo, typical monster, and yet it was so much more civilised, so much politer than whenever they had spoken in the past; just another sign that things really had changed. Shizuo was dealing with this faster than Izaya had given him credit for, and he was pleased with that. Everything was changing, moving forward, falling off into the abyss and towards whatever sweet reward awaited them on the other side of the dark and the unknown. It was exciting, thrilling, dangerous, and Izaya was hooked. All he had to do know was get Shizuo just as excited about this new sensation, this falling into nothing and everything and a new world.

"How about we meet at Sunshine 60 tonight? Eight o'clock," Izaya piped up with a suggestion when Shizuo seemed to come up with none of his own. "I'm sure even you can manage to find your way there, right?"

"Yeah, I can, jackass," huffed the blonde, somewhat offended but apparently thankful for the raven's intervention. His lack of knowledge about things like this was almost adorable, Izaya could remember how just a few short weeks ago he would have been mocking the blonde for it. It was funny how much things had changed. Funny and yet it seemed perfectly natural, perfectly as things should be. "See you then,"

"Don't be late," the information broker replied shortly, "It's a date,"


	66. Chapter 66: Fifty Eight and Fifty Nine

**Author's Note:** _I find it both ironic and kind of cruel how my motivation to write anything can vanish for days and days, and then all of a sudden hits at the most inappropriate times. This chapter is so much longer than the others have been recently, and it's only part of their date. I was originally going to include it all in this one, but I don't want to go around making each chapter a ridiculous length - so the rest will be in the next update, as well as other plot things other than just their date. I've got some really cute stuff planned, ~hopeless romantic kiwi~_

_Just a little **notice**: I'm also hoping to be able to start my own** original** work in the next couple of days – with my own proper characters and everything! eeeeeeep! – which will be posted on fictionpress, but I'll post the link here no doubt just to show it off. It's been in the works for a really long time now, and I'm really excited about starting and getting it up finally! It would mean a lot if you could have a peek at the first chapter or something when it's up and let me know what you think!_

_But that's enough authorial babbles for one chapter though. I'll let you all get on with a greatly overdo half-dinner date between kismesises and leave you hanging for the conclusion of it until the next update, welp, sorry guys! Please enjoy, and if you have time, review too! It means a lot when you let me know you liked it!_

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><p>"<em>How about we meet at Sunshine 60? At eight,"<em>

_"It's a date,"_  
><em>"It's a date,"<em>  
><em>"It's a date,"<em>

The words were ringing in Shizuo's head over and over again, like some kind of weird twisted mantra that the louse insisted on torturing him with. He'd hardly been the most vocal throughout the phone call to Shinjuku, but hearing those words seemed to freeze his tongue even more, the words just curling up in his mouth and refusing to budge.

"I do hope you'll be dressing up," cooed the raven, and Shizuo barely registered the words oozing through the phone into his ear he was so tangled up in the faint echo of words in his head. He only just managed to save a little face and break through the stupor with a little cough laced with a questioning tone back towards Izaya.

"No more stupid uniforms, hm?" Izaya concluded with a dry chuckle that seemed to float through the phone as if he were sat next to Shizuo and not all the way over in Shinjuku. Shizuo could practically imagine the way he would be sat without him even needing to be there; he'd be poised, arrogantly reclining in a chair or on the sofa, waving a hand in the air as if stirring the invisible strings of those around him in that cocky fucking confidence of his. It was funny how such a trait could be both alluring and infuriating all in the same instance. Shizuo wasn't sure he'd ever get used to that.

"They're not—" he started to protest, only to be greeted with the hum of the phone line, finding that in a fit of laughter, Izaya had hung up. He supposed he ought not to be too shocked, the raven was hardly one for politeness when it came to a number of people, certainly not him. That wouldn't change; he was sure, even if he and Izaya _were_ dating_._ That was just who Izaya was, and Shizuo wasn't sure if he'd want that to change about the louse either. Anymore change and his head was going to be sent spinning off of his shoulders.

Dating. _Dating_.

The very idea that he was going on a _date_ was funny, let alone the fact that it was with someone like Izaya. The blonde had in actuality never been on a real date; because he was sure that the girl he'd taken to the park for an afternoon in middle school didn't really count because quite clearly she'd been half terrified of him, half scared of herself. That had been before he'd come to the conclusion that maybe girls just weren't his type, but that had still been enough to pretty much warn him off the idea of 'dates' from there on out. It was funny how a raven with a wicked smile and an even more wicked nature could come fluttering into his life and somehow convince him that a date was a good idea. It was funny how not only had Izaya managed to talk him in to agreeing to one, but that Shizuo was kind of animated about the whole idea. Funny, that's what it was, really, truly, funny.

Shizuo tossed his phone onto the little coffee table in Tom's place a few seconds after Izaya had hung up. It wasn't as if he would be needing it again anytime soon, the only people other than the flea that called him were Tom or Celty or Kasuka really, and his brother certainly never had the time lately to call him; although a couple of weeks ago he'd gotten a long email from his sibling, something he'd still not figured out the motivation for but enjoyed all the same. He doubted Celty would need to call him anytime soon either, though he idly wondered how long it would be before the two of them ran into each other again. The last time had been a few days ago at least, perhaps longer, and no doubt she would notice the change in him from the conflict that had plagued him then.

It wasn't long after that Tom returned, finding that Shizuo hadn't moved from his spot on the sofa, staring at the moving images flickering across the screen with only half an interest in what was actually happening. As with the phone call, the blonde only half heard his friend and employer return, only half heard the soft click of the door as it closed and the rustle of bags in the kitchen.

"I didn't get much," Tom called from in the kitchen, returning to the lounge around a few minutes later with a handful of dishes somehow precariously balanced in his hands and arms. "I figured since we ate earlier and you'll probably want to get home to eat or something,"

"_It's a date,"_

The brunette moved around Shizuo's half frozen form on the sofa, letting the food he'd somehow managed to bring into the other room without spilling drop safely onto the coffee table before taking his own seat on the sofa. The blonde still hadn't really moved, and Tom could only guess that something had happened while he had been gone that had cause his friend to delve so far into his mind to think. It was almost as if he could hear the gears in Shizuo's head turning. Not that he was going to question it. If Shizuo wanted to talk about it, he would.

Blinking himself out of the daze and coughing awkwardly, Shizuo suddenly reached forward for one of the bowls, his brow furrowing as he did so. "Hey Tom— do you, uh, have any clothes I could borrow?"

* * *

><p>Izaya Orihara liked to play games, he did.<p>

In actual fact, he might even go as far as to say that was what had caused this whole chain of events, one of his silly little games, though at the moment, he couldn't really complain with where it had gone. He'd promised to himself, as a matter of proving a point, on principle or so he would continue to tell himself, that he wouldn't play games with Shizuo anymore, and yet when he had been thinking about meeting the blonde later, it had been hard to resist. It would have been priceless to turn up late, if only just to see how the blonde would react to the thought of him not coming, of being stood up. Izaya was sure that would tell him an awful lot about the state of Shizuo's mind, and yet he'd decided strongly that he shouldn't start playing with the blonde like that. Because that was what had caused all that nasty little hateful emotion to bubble in Shizuo in the first place, and now that the two had reached an impasse, as it were, he didn't really want to slide back into the old ways; however much fun he'd used to have back then.

He'd changed his clothes late in the day, only just before he'd left the loft, just a simple pair of black jeans, his glasses and a dress shirt that had been shoved promptly at the back of his closet for years. Shiki had bought it for him when he'd been younger, and it still fit. He'd hated it then and he hated it now, despite the fact he knew it looked good, but he had to set an example for Shizuo didn't he? It would be wrong of him to expect the blonde to change out of those awful clothes of his if he didn't return the favour. Give and take, that's how things were meant to work, right? Namie had already left by the time he did so, which saved her shooting awkward looks at him silently wanting to be informed of why he was dressing up. He'd have lied of course if she'd still been around, no matter what he was doing, just to see her face screw up in annoyance.

Now he found himself outside of the building itself, perched on a little low-rise wall just a few feet away from the entrance of the skyscraper that bucked up rebelliously against the sky. He was early, an old habit of his that he'd never shaken and doubted he ever would, but it didn't bother him all that much. It was busy around here, and he had all of his humans to watch dance about the place to pass the time. Sunshine 60 was a landmark in Ikebukuro, and already it wasn't hard to pick out tourists tittering around as he waited. It was cheesy maybe, but it was busy, and Izaya knew that for Shizuo's sake that was probably better. Who knew what sort of delicious thing would happen if the world were to spot the two of them on a date? It was fairly light too, though Izaya would have been able to spot Shizuo approach even if it hadn't been. Maybe it was a sign he was meant to live in the dark, maybe it was years of roaming the streets after the sun had set that had done it, but he always seemed more at home in the night.

It wasn't long before he spotted the familiar lanky figure of the monster approaching from across the street. It was hard to miss the awkwardness in his step or the head of hair that stuck out even in the street-light filled haze.

"I was beginning to think that you'd stood me up, Shizu-chan," the raven teased, though more out of habit than anything else, because Shizuo had managed to arrive early too. "I thought maybe you'd left me to the ghosts of Sunshine 60. Some people say this area is haunted you know?"

The blonde only vaguely mumbled out a little laugh as he finished heading towards the raven, his hands tucked into the pockets of the jeans that he had managed to pull on. It was obvious how awkward he felt; it oozed from every pore of his being. The very notion was delightful, seeing the brute like this, just delightful.

"I'm glad to see you finally changed out of those nasty butler outfits of yours though," Izaya continued. It looked like it would be up to him once again to ease the tension. He meant it though, Shizuo did look good. Inwardly he laughed at himself for thinking that, but when that shirt and that jacket and those jeans clung to his old enemy and new lover in just the ways they did, who was he to disagree? "I didn't think it was possible for an oaf to look so nice,"

"Yeah… yeah," he replied, rolling his eyes and turning away a little stiffly, apparently brushing the compliment off. Maybe it was because they were meeting in public or maybe it was because this was taking another step that Shizuo was a little unsure about, but it wasn't hard to tell that the blonde was having trouble with this. It was almost as if Izaya could see the two little figures fighting on his shoulders, an angel with a face like the blonde, a devil with a face like him. "Where are we going then?"

"Up and up and up," Izaya laughed, kicking away from the wall. "I hope you aren't scared of heights, Shizu-chan!"

* * *

><p>Shizuo Heiwajima didn't like heights.<p>

It wasn't that he was exactly _scared_, but they'd always just made him feel a little dizzy and he'd never really liked the idea that he could fall and find nothing or no one there to catch him. Maybe it was silly, maybe not, but he wasn't about to admit anything to the louse, not even when the two of them stepped into the elevator inside of the Sunshine 60 building itself. The restaurants there were some of the top most ones in the city, literally. The food section was found on floors fifty-eight and fifty-nine of the sixty floor building, just below the observation deck on the final floor. Shizuo himself had never even set foot into the place before, though Izaya insisted that the food here was nice and that he'd eaten here a couple of times before. He'd failed to tell Shizuo that had been with Shiki, because he didn't particularly want to explain away the questions he knew the blonde would have if he mentioned that little fact.

It was still busy, even inside the building; handfuls of different people all heading to different places, some to the offices, some to the restaurants, some to the cafés and the post office or the observation deck to look out at the city below. Shizuo was thankful for that. It was bad enough that Tom had discovered them before they'd even really defined whatever the fuck it was that they were still; he wasn't sure what would happen if suddenly the whole of Ikebukuro knew too. Izaya didn't seem to care all that much, proclaiming his name – or that dratted nickname of his – as loud as it seemed he could. Maybe that was why Shizuo hadn't run from the place already, cursing and tossing things and people out of his way, because Izaya was there, confident and cocky that this was working. Maybe that was what gave Shizuo that little boost to hang in there, or maybe it was the louse's attitude that the blonde was trying to prove wrong, to prove a point by staying.

Shizuo didn't really know why, only that he stayed. Izaya didn't really know why either, but he wasn't going to complain. Madness was so much better when someone had a partner to tumble into it with, and really, wasn't that just what love was?

Mad— mad— _mad_.

They were seated quickly enough on arriving at the restaurant they chose – or rather, the one that Shizuo randomly and rather awkwardly selected on stepping out of the elevator onto the fifty-ninth floor. The little booth they ended up in was cosy and quiet and hidden away from the general crowd in a sea of fairy lights and spicy scents. It was nice, really, and Shizuo found himself _almost_ able to forget that he was on a date with a man he was meant to hate, surrounded by people who may or may not realise who they were.

There was still that nagging in his head, of course there was, telling him how wrong this all was, how messed up it was, and yet for the most part it was shoved down by Shizuo and the new side to the louse that he'd never really bothered to see before. That new side was becoming clearer and clearer and Shizuo was finding himself drawn in more, not just as the date went on, but the days themselves. It was still the louse of course, there was still that mocking edge to his words or a cruelty laced in the tone when he spoke of certain things, but Shizuo knew that was just who Izaya was. The scariest thing was that he was beginning to realise that maybe that didn't matter so much anymore.

Mad, mad, mad; but then again, monsters weren't meant to be sane, were they?

Izaya himself was perfectly at ease here, perfectly comfortably, and was pleased to see that maybe Shizuo didn't look nearly as tense as he had done at the beginning of the evening, just outside in the dark. It was a funny little thing they had shifted into, that was for sure. They'd hardly talked really, only snippets of conversation about this and that as they'd come up in the elevator, and yet that had seemed to be more than enough. After all, small talk had never really been their favourite thing to do as enemies, why should that change any now that they were something else, something different, something new, something more? It seemed like this was so easy for the two of them, like this was just the natural way things had always meant to work, and yet Izaya knew that for the blonde it wasn't easy, and it wasn't for him; though their reasoning he guessed was entirely different. Shizuo feared getting caught; Izaya feared that this would never come to light, just like with Shiki. Here they were, dating and fucking and still, still, _still_, they were conflicting.

The ultimate contradiction. The original one. The best. The greatest.

What could be more beautiful than that? An elaborate game, clash, clash, clash. Opposites attract.


	67. Chapter 67: All Good Things

**Author's Note: **_Fuck, wow, I am going to grovel for forgiveness for how overdue this update is. Normally I don't like to let it go more than a few days, but I know it's been over a week, nearly two or something since this was last updated. __**SORRY, SORRY, SORRY**__. I've had a crazy workload of college work piled on me in the last couple of weeks and important deadlines to meet so I've really, really not had the time to sit down and write, even though I have really been wanting too. And then I went to the gym for a work out and ended up pulling some muscles in my leg which was really NOT fun at all. ;_; _

_It's a good thing a little bit of Shizaya fluff fixes all of that, right? I've also got a proper plan all typed up for that original fiction I have planned, so that should be posted within the next week too if you'd like to check it out. Lastly, I want to send a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed the past couple of chapters. I always love reading what you guys have to say, even if it's just telling me that you're looking forward to the next update. It's really what keeps me going sometimes~. _

_Now, enough of my babbling and on with the update! I hope you all like it, and don't forget those cute little reviews, ya hear?_

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><p>"They're endlessly irritating," admitted Izaya, lowering his fingers to curl around a delicate looking piece of china, filled with the coffee that he'd ordered to end their meal. Shizuo himself had gone for a glass of milk, which Izaya had laughed at and the waitress had seemed to find simply adorable. The blonde's ears had tinged pink at that and Izaya mused it was a wonder the table they sat at wasn't upturned in his embarrassment.<p>

"I can't imagine why," the blonde replied, in a simple monotone voice filled with sarcasm and half concealed amusement. His eyes were closed for the moment, sipping at his glass and leaning back in his chair. Izaya half raised a brow at the tone; the Shizuo that had started to peak through was different to the one he knew. It wasn't often that this new monster was showing, but the glances and teasing flashes were enough to intrigue him even more. The dark passenger crouching in the back of his own mind was lowering to its haunches, ready to pounce on this new brute that he was seeing, ready to play, to tease, to do whatever the hell. The two of them had somehow ended up on the topic of siblings, though Shizuo had lost track of the conversation that had led them there and didn't really want to discuss Kasuka all that much. The subject had always been a little touchy.

They had chatted for a while when they'd been ordering and waiting for their food to arrive, rather awkwardly on Shizuo's part, who still seemed to be having a hard time of really relaxing completely with where he was. Izaya guessed that was natural, because even he could still feel the knots of doubt pinching at his spine, tingling in his fingers, whispering in his head. This situation was still foreign, _of course_, still vastly outside of what either of them were used to. Nearly ten years had passed with them both hating the other with such passion that it seemed like they were bursting with it; to decide that maybe they didn't hate each other was going to be a shock to the system, no matter who they were or how fast or slow they went. When their food had arrived at the table, carried over by a bubbly waitress who didn't seem to recognise either of them, thankfully, the two of them lapsed into silence in favour of eating. That had seemed to suit them fine too, better perhaps without the awkward small talk that they'd never been that good at to get in the way, and soon they'd finished their meal and turned to the end delights of coffee.

"Oh, of course. How could I forget how well you and those horrors get along?" the raven hummed, taking another sip of the steaming liquid within. He wasn't usually a big fan of coffee, tea was so much more refined, but every now and then he allowed himself to indulge in the stronger drink. Variety is the spice of life, or so he'd always heard. Shizuo's eyes opened, and he took another sip from his glass, finishing it and setting it back onto the table. He didn't reply, just shrugged. He'd run into Izaya's younger siblings before, and even when he and the louse had been at each other's throats, the blonde had never found the two girls any more irritating than anyone else on the street; once or twice he'd even felt sorry for the two having a brother such as Izaya, at least until they'd dashed off in search of his own brother, and then all that pity vanished.

More and more people had left the restaurant while they'd been eating and half talking and breathing and _just surviving_, hardly surprising seeing as they'd met later than most people on dates normally did; they were only one table out of a handful of others left. The room was getting quieter, couples dotted around leaning in toward one another to continue their conversations in close, hushed voices and velvet whispers. Shizuo and Izaya sat as far apart as they had done at the start of the meal, simply allowing silence to rule whenever the sounds in the room dipped too low. Izaya continued to sip at his coffee, until it was all gone and Shizuo stared back at him or at his hands. And that suited them just fine.

"Let's get out of here," Shizuo mumbled, a little while after Izaya had lowered his coffee cup back to its little saucer on the table. The two had fallen into silence again, simply staring back at each other as if daring the other to be the one to break the silence. It worked for them though. It did. Shizuo felt content. Izaya felt content. They never had been good at small talk, and the silence was such a change from what they were used to that it peaceful and pleasant.

"Oh Shizzy," the raven chortled, "I didn't know you were so forward,"

The sound of Shizuo's chocked intake of breath was worth making the joke, Izaya noted, letting his laughter fill the air once again.

* * *

><p>The two of them had left the restaurant, but had yet to leave Sunshine 60 and its many floors.<p>

Shizuo had made to head for the lift, in a grouchy mood after the dispute the pair had gotten into over paying the bill. His pride had insisted not to let the louse pay, on principle and some warped rule that he knew to be true of dates. Reality however had dealt him a different hand, and the bill had cost more than Shizuo had on him, or even in his bank at that time he was sure, leading the raven to step in with what the blonde knew was a smug smirk in his direction to pay. Shizuo had commented to the informant it was lucky he hadn't tossed him down the stairs in payback for that little look. Izaya had just laughed, and followed after the blonde as he stalked out of the door. Same old Shizuo, same old Izaya, same old, same old, just with a few new tricks to spice things up.

The blonde had obviously been heading back toward the elevator when Izaya had stepped in, curling a hand around the brute's arm to tug him back away towards the stairs leading up, up, up to floor sixty, the final one, bucking up into the sky.

"You're going the wrong way," Izaya had said when Shizuo raised a brow at the contact. His innocence in matters like this was almost funny, even now. The oaf had such a cliché notion of love and dating and whatever, even when it came to someone he was supposed to hate. Izaya wasn't sure whether he ought to find that endearing now or if he was still supposed to mock the blonde. Clearly Shizuo was used to the idea that people were to go out for dinner and then leave and that was that. Yeah, it was almost cute how foolish he was to the real ways of the world, the ways of _his_ world. For now though, he didn't care, had just pushed it to the back of his mind, as the two had made their way up, up, up to the top floor.

The sixtieth floor of Sunshine 60 held no restaurant. It held no office, no café or no post office. The only thing on the sixtieth floor of Sunshine 60 was the observation deck, and that was as simple as that. From the sixtieth floor of Sunshine 60, one could look out at the city below for as far as their eyes could see, as far as the buildings stretched and skyscrapers kicked back against the sky or the lights twinkled on the horizon.

Heights weren't quite that bad, Shizuo Heiwajima quickly decided on stepping foot onto the floor behind the raven, and that maybe he'd been a little too quick to judge them when they could present him with views such as the one he was witnessing now; the entirety of the city spread out as far as his eyes could see. He'd not been expecting this to greet the two of them when they arrived there, had half wondered if Izaya had not been doing it to wind him up and take him somewhere they weren't meant to be in order for a quickie on some poor soul's office desk.

The blonde forgot the louse for a minute, stepping swiftly across the room until he was stood right at the other side, pressed against the railing and looking out over the city as if he would almost tumble right over into it. He'd lived in Tokyo for his entire life, Ikebukuro was his home, the only place he'd ever known, and yet he'd never known it could be so—

"Beautiful, hm?" came a voice at his side. Shizuo didn't even turn, but Izaya wasn't worried about that, simply staring at the blonde's face, lit with the lights of the city streaming up at them. He often came here when he needed to think. His loft offered him a good view of Shinjuku, but nothing like this, nothing like seeing the whole of the city, almost offered up to him as if it were in the palm of his hand. It cleared his mind, helped him think. Shizuo certainly needed a push to get his brain sorting through the muddle of what they were, what this was, and the raven had guessed maybe this would work for him too. They weren't all that different, after all, not really.

Shizuo didn't answer, his eyes roving over each light, as if by doing so he could see each person behind it, their lives, their stories.

"Ignoring me again?" the raven teased, turning around so that he faced the room in order to watch the others milling around, his back to the city. "What a way to treat your—"

"What are we doing?" the blonde questioned suddenly. Izaya cocked a brow. How many times had the two of them asked that question? How many times had both said they didn't know? Shizuo didn't seem to remember that though or didn't care if he did remember, continuing on regardless of either. "How can we just pretend all of a sudden that we don't hate each other, just go on fucking dates like we're normal people and— and this is all so— _so_—"

"Complicated?" Izaya offered when Shizuo seemed to be unable to find the word. He turned again, to face Shizuo, who was still staring out at the city below. Lithe fingers curled around one of his wrists, tugging him away from the scene below to face the raven stood beside him with a wicked smirk. The monster blinked, little lights dancing in his eyes, lighting the face of the dark creature stood before him. Hopeless complicated, the louse was right, it was. And yet—

"All good things are, Shizuo," Izaya added, simply, unassumingly, flashing a grin of white teeth and pulling the blonde's mouth down to his without another word. Shizuo saw no reason to protest. Hadn't he already decided he had lost his mind?

The city lights continued to twinkle in the back, each one hiding a person, a life, and their beautiful, twisted, complex little story.


	68. Chapter 68: Making Exceptions

**Author's Note: **_A wild update for 'You've Got Mail' has appeared, finally!_

_Sorry guys, this has taken far, far too long to get out. I know it sounds like the biggest cliché in the world, but my real life has just been really busy right now. I spent a week in London & another week at work, plus my word processor fucked up and I kind of hit a mental wall with how I wanted this story to progress, so it's really just not been a good time for writing this lately!_

_I felt really bad for not updating, but I'd rather not update at all than stick up a typo-ridden, shitty chapter which is not up to my own standards and doesn't really go anywhere, especially so close to the end. Don't worry though, this will never be abandoned without being finished, it just might take some time to finish it up, though I'm really trying to work on getting this done by the end of the month if not way before._

_If you feel like giving me a prod every now and then to check I'm still alive then by all means send me an email or a review or bug me on my Tumblr – but just remember that I have a pretty busy life with college and friends and work too, so sometimes I want to update this, but physically don't have the time to do so. But really, it means a lot to know people out there are waiting to see where this goes. I love you all for that._

_Enough of my pitiful, sentimental authorial babbles for one update, for now, enjoy. If you have time to do so, please don't forget to leave a review for this chapter. Just to let me know you're still alive too~_

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><p>The world is filled with unlikely bonds, ones which seem, to the casual observer, to make absolutely no sense at all. Even in the very basics - hot and cold, good and evil, man and machine - things which ought to contrast and clash often come together to form beautiful alliances.<p>

Izaya Orihara saw it all the time in his observations of the human race. Each and every time he went out to watch his city, his people, his darling little playthings, he saw it. He saw men and women madly in love despite the fact he could tell at a glance how vastly different they were. He saw men rely on machines when they could have quite easily done the same job themselves, with no machine involved. He saw perfectly decent people give in to wicked things if just the right amount of pressure was applied. It was just a fact of nature. Unlikely bonds were born all the time, even between mortal enemies, should they only bother to find themselves a common ground.

He wasn't sure what sort of middle ground he and the oaf had settled on, but he couldn't deny they were obviously finding it, that there was some kind of odd little bond blooming between the two of them, weaving about in the city nights of a screaming urban jungle. He was pretty sure he'd not seen it coming, and Shizuo _certainly_ hadn't. Then again, who could have predicted such a thing? No, no, Izaya was pretty sure no one could have, and perhaps that why it was so beautiful; because no one had seen it coming, because it was _raw_ and _natural_ and had just _happened _without rhyme or reason. Was that not motiving enough to believe in it, to accept that it was meant to be? Izaya had never been one for fate or destiny or any of that sort of fake bullshit strung together to con people, but when the world seemed to throw him and Shizuo together like this—

Watching Shizuo wonder across the observation deck, lit with light and for once, apparently calm, perhaps he could make an exception… just this once.

* * *

><p>Shizuo didn't know what time it was, only that it was late, and he didn't really care enough to check. It didn't matter; he didn't need to be anywhere else.<p>

The observation deck was empty, though the blonde guessed that was due to the late hour. He was pleased about that though, he always felt more at home in his own skin when there was no one around, no one there to judge or to tease or to whisper about who he was and the things he'd done. Something in his gut told him that they were long past the opening hours, but then he also figured that Izaya could find his way around that sort of thing.

It was calming up here, even more so when no one was around. The height still had his blood pumping uneasily, though it wasn't so much the height that scared him but the idea that one wrong move could have him tumbling down and down and down. Shizuo could deal with heights, it was the idea of falling that he hated. It made his head spin and his skin tingle, especially when he stepped closer to the edge, next to the raven headed figure left atop the building with him. Izaya himself was practically sprawled out across the rail, looking as if he could very well have taken flight and vanished into the night. Shizuo had never really bothered to look at him in all that much detail before, what was the point when all he wanted was to smash him across the street as quickly as was possible? But he looked now, as the two stood in the quiet dark.

The whole picture of Izaya was eerie. Dark hair lit with the glow of distant city lights and a large moon, tufts of feathery hair twisting in the soft breeze. Large eyes, bright, filled with mischief and sass and something else that Shizuo couldn't place or understand. He doubted he ever would. Yeah, it was eerie, it was ghostly, and it was almost abnormally beautiful. Once upon a time he would have gladly thrown himself off of the sixtieth floor of Sunshine 60 where they now both stood for thinking such a thing, but now? Well, now things had changed, they'd struck up some kind of unlikely truce, and were rushing towards something new, something different.

Izaya seemed to have no trouble dealing with it, though that was of no real surprise to Shizuo. If anything, it was almost comforting, the fact that one of them had some idea of what was going on, that one of them was keeping them tethered to something normal while the rest of their little world flew up around them. Shizuo just wondered how long it would take him to sort through the muddle of thoughts that Izaya had clearly fought through and won, though still wasn't sure whether making it out on the other side was a good thing or not.

He'd always thought that love was easy, that you just _knew_. Izaya would probably laugh at him if he ever voiced that idea; after all, from the emails they'd exchanged, Shizuo had learned that the other man had a more than cynical attitude towards the idea of_ love_. That idea was strangely comforting too. Their romance, if that was what it was, wouldn't be that perfect, fairytale story like everyone dreams of. The fact that Izaya wasn't expecting that, that he _knew_ that wasn't going to be what happened, it made this all seem so much easier. There was no more pressure, no more—

A cool voice interrupted his thoughts, just like it always seemed to do these days. At one stage that would have enraged him, now he found himself begrudgingly indulging whatever foolish notion the informant wished to tell him of. "If I jumped, how would you feel?"

"How would you feel?" Izaya repeated again, after a small pause to suck in a breath, "If I just let the wind carry me over the edge of the railing and down, down, down—?"

"Eh?" Shizuo grunted out, as eloquent as ever, in reply. Izaya didn't move his gaze from staring out at the lights to glance at the blonde, who seemed intent on watching the informant, as if that would let him in on the other's thoughts. What kind of question was that? What could that possibly— What was Izaya expecting from him? He paused for a moment or two. He wasn't sure how long.

"Glad?" the informant offered with a laugh. Shizuo didn't know how to answer. Not anymore. Once, he probably would have delighted in an Izaya-free Ikebukuro. He'd have been disappointed that the flea's demise hadn't been by his hand.

But now, what about _now_? He was so certain of what he would have felt, what he used to feel, but anything to do with how he felt now had him drawing blanks, had him hesitating.

Glad? No, no. He didn't think that's what he'd feel anymore. He didn't think he'd be pleased to see the back of the louse, didn't think he'd be disappointed that he'd not had a hand in doing him in. He wanted to say that he'd just feel nothing, that he wouldn't be affected by it in any real way. He didn't think that was true either. If he was honest with himself, he'd feel—

"Alone,"

Izaya turned at that, to observe Shizuo from the corner of his eyes, as if he'd not quite heard the blonde correctly, though he knew that he had. He didn't say anything, because the blonde was still not done, clearly, and Izaya was more than intrigued with where this little titter of conversation was going.

"The city would feel—" Shizuo shrugged, rubbing his neck and internally cursing. What was he even saying? It was crazy, it was madness, and yet he was certain that he'd never been more honest with the louse in his life. "Empty, I guess,"

Izaya still didn't say anything then, but when he turned his head back out to the city, his lips were tilted up with a smile. Not a smirk, not one of those smug little expressions that usually graced his face, but a genuine little smile; because Shizuo was dealing with this in just the way he ought to be, just the way Izaya had been prodding him towards. It seemed like he didn't seem quite so hung up on the fact they'd used to fight and curse and scream death threats at each other. That didn't matter anymore, and from the looks of it, Shizuo was starting to realise that. Izaya wasn't sure what that meant, he wasn't sure how long the two of them would keep evolving or just what they'd evolve into, but things were unwrapping now, one little baby step at a time.

"Well of course," Izaya snickered, "Who else would entertain you as much as me?"

Shizuo said nothing, but an unspoken laugh tilted the corners of his mouth a little. The tone of Izaya's words had been joking, but there was a truth in them that Shizuo couldn't fail to miss. How much of his life had been centered on tracking the informant down, in chasing him and cursing him and exchanging scars and blows in all those epic battles? Of course his life wouldn't be the same if Izaya were to die, to just vanish from the city. He'd just never thought that might be a bad thing before.

"Come on, let's go. It's fucking freezing out here," Shizuo grunted. "We don't all have shells to keep out the cold like damn fleas,"

"How rude, Shizu-chan," Izaya hummed in reply, pushing off of the rail. He flashed a grin at Shizuo, as if the cold hadn't started to bother him too, as if Shizuo hadn't just made a rather notable confession, as if nothing had really changed or there wasn't a heavy uncertain future hanging in the air before them. That was strangely comforting to Shizuo too, though he would never admit that either.

Shizuo snorted, "Yeah, yeah,"

The idea of falling had always terrified him, ever since he was little. Falling in love with an enemy was no exception. But perhaps he could make an exception, just this once— after all; monsters aren't scared of anything—

Are they?


	69. Chapter 69: Living in the Now

**Author's Note: **_Hey guys, it's been a while hasn't it? I'm really sorry about that. After my exams I lost huge motivation for all writing, I passed all of my exams though! So I'm now writing to you from nearly two months of being at university. I've got my work under control now, and I've wanted to update this for WEEKS but only just had the time. It's been so long I've decided to re-read it all myself to remind myself of what happened and fix up typos and such. As such, this is just a short little chapter to say: **I'm back, **hopefully for good this time. _

__My writing style has probably changed since I last updated, so if it seems a little different, that's just the inevitable process of time I guess._ I can't promise updates will be daily like they were at one stage, especially seeing as I'm still not sure how much longer this has left or how it's going to end, but I'll try and get an update up at least once a week. Also, I found out, this fic's word count is longer than the first Harry Potter book, and it's not even finished! How crazy is that? I've also moved mainly over to '**archive of our own'/'AO3**' to update. It's mostly Homestuck though so sorry! This will probably be the last Durarara! fic I finish/post. I might complete the other ones I've got started but, I can't promise anything._

**_I WOULD ALSO JUST LIKE TO ADD. I've had reviews complaining this is "going too slowly" and that "nothing is happening" with them. I hate to break it to you, but love doesn't just happen overnight. This isn't going to be a "quick fic" so rather than posting hate at me for writing a more accurate, longer tale, just go find another fic. _**

* * *

><p>Izaya was glad when the two of them finally slipped back into the lower levels of Sunshine 60; though he'd never have admitted to the weakness out loud, the cold had been getting to him up there on the observation deck. He'd left his jacket back at the loft after all, and the dress shirt he'd picked out really didn't do much to keep the warmth in. It was nice, tailored to fit him perfectly - Izaya didn't expect anything less from Shiki - but not practical. He wasn't even sure why he wore it, though decided maybe it was another huge 'fuck you' to Shiki. He half wished he'd not insisted they both dress up, just so he could have retained a warmer outfit. He had to admit though no one seemed to have noticed who either of them were yet, that was good for both of them, Shizuo especially. He was sure the blonde wouldn't have made it this far if someone had. Speaking of him, Izaya noted that he looked annoying warm in his own shirt, but guessed he shouldn't be surprised. He knew from personal experience that the oaf produced an insane amount of heat, even when it was freezing out and he could still feel the cold seeping in through the thickness of his jacket. He half wondered how Shizuo would react if he sidled up beside him to absorb some of that warmth for himself. Part of his brain told him to go for it, that it would be interesting to see him react, to see him squirm.<p>

The lower floors were even quieter than they had been earlier on, and that didn't surprise Izaya either. It was getting late now, most people had already gone back to their homes or retreated to hotel rooms or were still letting the night wind down over a final glass of wine in one of the restaurants. Shizuo noticed it too, Izaya could tell by the way his shoulders unbunched and the tension seemed to ease away on finding that they hadn't run into anyone else on their way back to the elevators and until the machine took them to the ground floor. The two of them hadn't spoken since Shizuo had gruffly announced they were going back inside, but for some reason Izaya didn't mind that. Sure, normally he was talking non-stop, content to hear the sound of his own voice, his own wisdom, and sometimes because he knew just how much the sound of his voice could rile Shizuo up. But this? He was content with this too. Just the sound of them walking, of them breathing, moving, just surviving- maybe it was because it had been so long since Izaya had had that simplicity that he found it so alluring, maybe it was something else, maybe there didn't need to be a reason.

The streets were more crowded than Sunshine 60 had been, but Ikebukuro was always busy, always bustling with life, despite the time or the weather or the day. That was one of the things Izaya loved so much about it, that despite anything, there were always people here to play with, people to watch, to enjoy.

"My, my, my Shizu-chan," Izaya cooed when the too of them had stepped onto the street, a familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his lips like an old friend. The door to the towering building had swung shut almost silently behind Shizuo, who still hadn't said a word, and almost seemed to be brooding over what he'd let slip at the top. Izaya still wasn't sure what to make of that. Shizuo would be lonely if he were to leave? How was he meant to take that? He'd be lonely because he liked him, cared for him, wanted him around? Or he'd be lonely because his enemy would be gone, because there'd be no one left to fight, to accept the monstrous other side to him? Izaya knew which one he'd prefer, but couldn't be sure which one was the truth.

"Was our date just that spectacular you are lost for words?" He continued, teasingly, playfully, though the question was serious. Though he could act like he had it all under control, like he was okay with letting this, whatever it was, run where it may, there was no denying he was scared beyond belief, had lost control of this long, long ago. He needed to know what was going on in Shizuo's head too. Lately it was becoming harder and harder to read the monster's thoughts, and damn near impossible to read Shizuo's. He wasn't sure what that meant either, if that was a good thing or not. Did this mean that Shizuo was working through this in his head too? Was he going through what Izaya had gone through before? He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't-

"Uhn," Shizuo shrugged in reply, a lazy raising of one shoulder as he trailed behind after Izaya. He was definitely lost in his head, definitely hung up on what he'd said and no doubt beating himself up for admitting that much. It was difficult for him, Izaya could see that. Fuck, it was for him too.

"Feeling sorry for yourself is pointless," Izaya piped up, stopping, an eyebrow arched Shizuo's way. He wondered if the blonde would even notice that he'd stopped he was that far into his own head. "And living in the past is a dull, lonely business. Stop wasting energy on it. Focus on the now. I do."

Shizuo looked up at that. Izaya found he didn't understand the look in his eyes.


	70. UPDATE

**Hello there friends! Long lost Kiwi here! **

I am really happy to see that people are still reading this and enjoying it. I thought for sure people had just forgotten but I've gotten some really lovely messages about it from people on my Tumblr, which is so, so, lovely to hear! It always means a lot to hear that people are enjoying my writing.

I'd like to apologise again for lack of updates! I've really drifted from the anime world over the past year, so finding the motivation to update anything that isn't Homestuck or Dangan Ronpa or OFF is a little tricky, but this story is always special to me so I am going to make sure that it WILL be finished one day even if it takes me five million years! I'm feeling a little more motivated now than I was before though.

**... **

**And actually, there is a reason for the delay in updating that might be exciting?**

**I am thinking about maybe doing a complete re-write of You've Got Mail. **

**... **

I started writing this when I was younger, obviously, and re-reading it now there's a lot I would like to improve and a lot of flaws/plot holes/typos I'd like to fix. But this story here has a lot of views and reviews and I don't want those to go to waste! So I'm playing around with the idea of re-writing this, and typing up a few mock first chapters again. So soooooon I will let you know what is happening, but maybe...

**Let me know what you guys would prefer?**


	71. UPDATE: ACTUAL NEWS

Greetings, lovelies.  
>It's been a while.<p>

I apologise for that, I really do.  
>Things have been super hectic<br>in real life for me, but with a  
>refound love for writing and a<br>burning desire to tie up some  
>loose ends, I come with exciting<br>news. **I've officially started a  
><strong>** re-write of You've Got Mail**.

I know most said I didn't need to  
>re-write anything if I didn't feel<br>like it, but the truth is, there's a lot  
>that I wasn't happy with, both in the<br>plot and my writing style, which has  
>grown along with me (I hope!)<br>And so this way, I'll feel more  
>at ease with the story, and more<br>motivated to finally give you all the  
>ending you've been waiting for and<br>deserved for years now. I'll be  
>updating the chapters here to<br>reflect the new revisions, rather  
>than starting a new story and<br>lose all of your wonderful, lovely  
>reviews! I will ALSO and first be<br>posting any and all chapters to my  
>writing tumblr, which can be found<br>at **aichrou on TUMBLR and Ary  
><strong>on** AO3 / Archive of Our Own. **That's  
>where they'll be showing up first,<br>and where I'll be doing my writing  
>for the most part these days.<br>I hope to see you all soon!  
>Hopefully, I can have reached this<br>stage and surpass it to the end.

_(Note: Some chapters will remain largely_  
><em>the same, others will shift dramatically,<em>  
><em>as I fiddle with various plot aspects. It's<em>  
><em>up to you whether you re-read along with<em>  
><em>me as I write, but it would be wonderful to<em>  
><em>have you join me on this journey again.)<em>

**ALL MY LOVE, KIWIKID55**.  
>( It's Ary, too. Pleased to meet you. )<p> 


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